


Tear the Lies Asunder

by Nyxelestia



Series: Virtues, Chicken, and Destiny [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Chicken and Destiny, Ensemble Cast, Episode: s04e06 A Servant of Two Masters, Episode: s04e07 The Secret Sharer, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Introspection, Lies, Magic Revealed, Polyamory, Queerplatonic Relationships, Season/Series 04, Slow Build, Sorrow, Strength Magic and Courage, Trust, Trust Issues, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-14 03:04:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1250356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxelestia/pseuds/Nyxelestia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p> </p>
  <p>    <i><b>(</b>Trust<b>)</b></i><br/></p>
</div><br/>Starts after 'A Servant of Two Masters'. Arthur, worried about Merlin's excessive drinking and scars on his neck, starts trying to snoop around to see how he can help his manservant with whatever demons are driving him to the tavern. Instead, he stumbles across the webs of lies his friends are spinning around him. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, though Arthur had never needed to bear such weight on his own - but until he finds out what everyone is hiding from him, that is exactly what he'll do.<p> </p><p>  <span class="small">Tags are slightly misleading, please see series notes for more details.</span></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The alternative title for this story could be "the show, but with consistent character development!", as it was born of my frustration with the last half of S4. This story is very much written in such a way as to 'fit' within the overall style and atmosphere for the show.
> 
> While there are some bits of romantic text and subtext, by and large this fic series is gen and focuses on friendships and intimate relationships, not romantic engagements. I apologize if the tags seem like a bait-and-switch, but using only the most technically accurate tags seemed just as misleading, so I covered my bases using the ones I did.
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely [AngelQueen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelQueen/pseuds/AngelQueen)! She is the reason this story is cohesive and read-able, so please make sure to give her some love.

~*~

Nearly a week after the attack by the mercenaries in the Valley of the Fallen Kings, Arthur leaned back in his favorite chair with his feet up on the table, watching his manservant fuss over his bed. He was in the middle of trying to figure out if Merlin’s attention to detail was a result of George’s influence or if he was just stalling. It was then that he noticed Merlin rubbing his neck for what must have been the tenth time in the last hour.

Arthur knew Merlin had been having problems with his neck. He’d been rubbing at it for days, ever since he came back from his latest drinking binge, and up until now, he just assumed Merlin got some crick from sleeping in a tavern chair or something similar.

Then Merlin shifted his neckerchief while pulling his hand away, and Arthur sat up sharply at the angry red marks underneath his skin, jolting the table with his movements as his feet landed on the floor.

“What’s that?”

Merlin frowned as he turned to look at Arthur. “What’s what?”

Arthur pointed towards Merlin’s neck. “Those… cuts?”

Merlin immediately slapped his hand to the back of his neck, then winced in pain. Arthur rolled his eyes and thought _idiot_ and asked, “Where are they from?”

“Um…”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, amused, as he realized- “Do you even remember?”

“…yes?”

“Two days, Merlin. How much did you drink?” he asked, genuinely curious, leaning forward over his knees as Merlin turned away abruptly.

“Dunno,” he said, gathering up Arthur’s bed sheets with far more vigor and attention than they needed. “About either of them.”

Arthur didn’t even bother rolling his eyes, this time. “Of course you don’t. That’s what happens when a man drinks as much as you do. You’re getting to be worse than Gwaine.”

Merlin didn’t respond, and Arthur frowned.

Ever since he’d come back from his two-day drinking spree he’d been listless and unusually quiet. At first Arthur thought it was something to do with assigning Merlin to George’s tutelage during what had to have been a truly atrocious morning-after, but even Elyan and Percival had asked him if Merlin was all right.

Whatever was wrong, it went beyond Merlin’s usual petulant sulking.

But he knew better than to ask. He’d rather have no answer at all than another one of Merlin’s fake smiles and little lies, adding onto the mountain of mystery that was his manservant.

After Merlin left, taking the empty plate with him, Arthur spread out the expected crop estimates from his various vassals across the table. However, his thoughts stayed with his alcoholic manservant.

At first he’d thought it was just Gwaine’s bad influence, but the drinking continued – worsened, almost – even after the knights managed to get Gwaine sobered up…well, mostly sobered up. He’d tried keeping Merlin all but shackled to his side and within his sight at all times, but Merlin still managed to sneak off. He’d tried to talk to Merlin about why he was drinking so much, only for Merlin to blithely deny that he was at all. He’d tried everything he could think of, even just sitting Merlin down and telling him about what Arthur had seen happen to men who lost themselves to their cups, only for Merlin to roll his eyes and go, “I know!” and within a month he was out there again.

Arthur sometimes marveled that Merlin was still as functional as he was, given the amount he disappeared to the taverns. He wasn’t losing himself as a person to the dark bliss of ales and meads…yet. Still, its inevitability taunted Arthur from the horizon, watching Merlin grow wearier and wearier, and his smiles becoming more and more forced over time.

He didn’t want to lose his best friend, but Arthur had no idea how to help him.

~*~

Ironically, the answer came to him the very next day from George of all people.

“Where’s Merlin?” Arthur asked, exasperated, when George served him lunch.

“He is laundering your clothing, sire,” George said, setting down the platter holding a frankly terrifying amount of food on the table.

Arthur blinked. “Didn’t he already do that this morning?”

“He seemed to be slacking off, sire,” George said, deftly laying out his food. “I told him to start again to ensure you are to the best of your appearance whilst wearing them. And what would you like to eat first, sire?”

“Chicken… and was he really?” Arthur asked carefully. “How do you know he isn’t slacking off right now?

“I’m afraid so, sire,” George said, setting down the plate in front of him. “And, I asked Guinevere to keep an eye on him.”

“I see,” Arthur said. And he did.

For some reason, his lunch had become some sort of battle ground between the servants. Guinevere insisted on inspecting his lunches for quality, Merlin insisted on _serving_ the lunches, and George badgered both of them on what was to be served in the first place. Arthur was of half a mind to just go down to the kitchens to fetch his own food himself, or even to go down to the tavern to get something to eat…

…speaking of the taverns…

“That’s it!”

George, in the middle of slicing his chicken before loading it onto Arthur’s plate, jumped at Arthur’s outburst. Thankfully, he didn’t slice his hand open and bleed all over Arthur’s meal like Merlin probably would have. Carefully lowering the knife, he asked, “What’s it, sire?”

“Merlin!” Arthur said excitedly, pushing up out of his seat and heading over to the window. He could barely see the roof of what he knew to be the Rising Sun over there, Camelot’s most prominent tavern – but he did know where it was.

“What about Merlin, sire?” George asked.

“I think I have an idea on how to deal with him,” Arthur said, looking out over his city, narrowing in on the taverns inside the citadel – the ones that he could see at least. He turned back to George and grabbed his cloak as he headed for the door. “Prepare me a plate I can return to, chicken, bread, and some fruit, I don’t care which, just leave it there on my table and I can eat it when I come back. Take the rest back down to the kitchens.”

He practically ran out the door, far too conscious of his tight schedule and hoping George caught all that even without Merlin’s big ears to hear everything.

~*~

Arthur didn’t have much time before the council would convene to discuss the upcoming winter stores, so he hurried down towards the Rising Sun. Luckily, it was just the time of early evening where his cloak wasn’t conspicuous.

He pushed open the doors to the tavern, keeping his head down as he headed towards the barkeep in the back.

“Wha’ d’you want?” the man asked without looking up from the bottles he was arranging.

“A word,” Arthur said easily enough. The barkeep’s face shot up and his eyes widened in realization, but before he could say a word Arthur brought his finger to his lips in a firm shushing motion. He then headed towards the stairs and gestured for the man to follow him. Arthur went behind the stairs, slipped into the small store room, and the barkeep followed him in and closed the door behind them.

“Wha’ can I do fer you, Your Majesty?” the man asked.

“My manservant,” Arthur said, lowering his hood. “You know of him, correct?”

“Er…”

“Merlin?” Arthur offered. “Tall, skinny, pale skin, dark hair, usually wearing a ridiculous neckerchief…?”

“Oh!” The man said, finally. “Yeah, s’been a while since I’ve seen him, but I know ‘im.”

“Been a while?” Arthur asked dubiously. Less than three days is ‘a while’?

“Yes, sire,” the man said. “Las’time was when ‘e was dragging Sirs Gwaine and Owen outta here when some outta-towners tried to start a brawl with ’em.”

“…That was over two months ago,” Arthur said, a little incredulous. “My manservant has been to the tavern multiple times, the last of which wasn’t even three days ago.”

“M’sorry, sire, but ‘e wasn’t ‘ere,” the man said, shrugging apologetically. “Maybe try the Cat’s Paw?”

Arthur sighed. Of course Merlin couldn’t make this easy on him and go to the most obvious tavern of all. “No, no…it’s my manservant’s fault, not yours. Thank you for your help.”

“I’s an honor ta help you, milord,” the man said, bowing as much as he could while still giving Arthur considerable space in the tiny store room.

After thanking the barkeep, pulling his hood up, and slipping out of the Rising Sun, Arthur shook his head and headed off for the next tavern, hoping the one Merlin frequented was nearby.

~*~

It wasn’t.

Arthur headed back to the castle at a brisk pace, confusion swirling around his head. He’d tried every tavern in the Upper Town, and all of them said the same thing: Merlin didn’t come there, either not often or not at all. And there was no way for Merlin to be able to go to a tavern outside the Upper Town with the frequency he slipped away and make it back in time for chores as he often managed to do.

It didn’t make any sense, and -

Speak of the devil. “What is it, Merlin?” he asked irritably. “I’m already late for council -”

“They sent me to fetch you,” Merlin said, smiling at him easily enough. “What were you doing out in the city?”

Arthur considered telling him, if only to see Merlin’s reaction. But he just shook his head and went inside, letting Merlin stand confused behind him. As he passed, Arthur glanced at Merlin’s neck, and saw the briefest flash of the angry red scars.

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

~*~

Throughout the meeting, Arthur had to make himself avoid staring at either his own uncle or Merlin’s. Agravaine and Gaius were two of his most trusted men, and there was a good chance one of them was a traitor.

Instead, he mostly kept his focus on the reports in front of him, and tried not to take sides as the lords before him bickered over who owed what to which granary in the kingdom.

He knew of at least two of them who were lying outright about the expected output of the farms in their lands. More of them probably were at least being slippery with the truth, if not lying outright. Guinevere’s fluttering around with papers and wineskins reminded him of what she was hiding from him. He hadn’t forgotten how she suddenly burst into his room and told him to not take a bath, the way she forced him to not think about of his most loyal knights because it reminded him too much of what they both pretended wasn’t there before Lancelot had sacrificed himself. And for all that he was trying not to look at Gaius and Agravaine, he didn’t miss the way they were shooting glances at each other.

That, combined with the slow realization that Merlin _wasn’t_ going to the tavern on a regular basis, gave Arthur the sudden feeling his entire life was made up of lies.

“No more,” Arthur said sharply as Merlin stepped forward to pour his king more wine. “I wish to keep my head clear – water.”

“Yes, sire,” Merlin said easily, rubbing his neck again. If it wasn’t a scar from drunken tavern antics, where did those angry gashes come from?

He wondered what Merlin was really doing. Was he just buying ale and drinking it on his own? But no, even that would warrant visiting the tavern to refill any flask or skin he had that would need refilling. Anything that wouldn’t require Merlin to go there would be too expensive for Merlin, or at least too expensive to buy on such a regular basis. Merlin was a well-paid manservant, but even he wasn’t _that_ well-paid. And that much wine and ale weren’t missing from Arthur’s own casks, or from the castle’s collective stores.

He looked back to Gwen as she said something quietly to Gaius, and he glanced at Agravaine as the man made some notes on one of the reports. Arthur only just stopped himself from laughing at the realization that all the people he trusted most in this world were also the ones who he knew were lying to him, about one thing or another.

Such was the life of a king.

~*~

Arthur had eventually called out four different noblemen on the false marks on their reports, and in a fit of pique had ripped up those parchments and told the men to come back to him tomorrow with fresh, _accurate_ information, before dismissing the council entirely and striding out of the council chambers pretending he had somewhere to be. It had taken two climbs, one backtracking, and no less than six off-turns and once hiding in an alcove, but he lost Merlin and managed to get a moment to himself, finding a quiet, deserted spot, a narrow servant’s path above the main entrance corridor, to just sit and take a few deep breaths in as he waited.

He did not have to wait long.

Soon, he heard the shifting metal of his knights returning from patrol, and Guinevere’s voice greeting them, and he moved towards them, needing to hear of any news from the knights before anyone else.

“…about Merlin,” he heard from Gwaine, and Arthur, feeling his chest tense, slid up to the corner, glancing around only long enough to see his four closest knights gathering around Guinevere, before sliding back into the shadows to listen.

“What about him?” Guinevere asked, voice oddly tight despite her closeness to three of her friends and her brother.

“He’d been acting odd, before we went to patrol the border,” Leon said.

“ _Really_ odd, and I don’t buy the tavern bit,” Gwaine said. “I know Merlin when he’s drunk, and that wasn’t it. He was just -”

“Rude?” Percival offered. “He normally always stops to talk to us and get updates on the kingdom’s wellbeing, but he kept ignoring us -”

“He even told me to get out of the armory the other day,” Elyan said. “When I asked him why he hadn’t even looked at the sword he’d taken up to Arthur’s room, he picked the one Arthur doesn’t even bother training with, let alone using.”

“And suddenly he’s like this?” Gwaine added. “I just saw him, he was so stressed… this can’t be from a bump to the head or his shoulder wound.”

There was silence, then Gwen said, “Listen, you can’t tell Arthur – either he’d get ridiculously over protective, or furious, or both, or… it wouldn’t end well. Gaius, Merlin and I all thought it would be best kept away from him.”

Arthur’s blood froze, and he felt like his heart was slipping through the cracks in the wall beneath his fingers as Gwen admitted openly to his knights that she was lying to him, asking the same of them.

Didn’t anyone in this castle tell him the truth anymore? Was the crown on his head really so daunting to them?

“I don’t like lying to him,” Gwaine said.

“None of us do,” Leon said.

“And you think I do?” Guinevere asked. “With a potential traitor in our midst and still settling into the throne and negotiations with Queen Annis and preparing for winter… Arthur has enough to worry about. I don’t want to add unnecessarily to it.”

More silence, save the soft sound of the moving chainmail as the knights shifted where they stood.

“…what happened, then?” Leon asked. Arthur shut his eyes as he realized his knights were joining in on this madness, these lies.

“Merlin was enchanted,” Guinevere said, and Arthur’s eyes flew open as she added, “By Morgana.”

“WHAT?!” Gwaine shouted, before immediately being shushed by Guinevere.

“You heard me,” she said. “After Arthur was separated from Merlin, he was captured by Morgana. She did something, something involving creature of dark magic, a snake with many heads…Merlin said she cut off one of the heads, and another grew back in his place, but he doesn’t remember anything after that, nothing for the next few days we remember him acting so strangely…oh, god, was awful.”

“What was?” Elyan asked, voice laced with concern.

“That snake-head Morgana cut off…it was _in_ Merlin, inside the back of his neck.”

All too clearly, his findings from that morning – had it really been just this morning? – flashed before his mind’s eye. Two angry red gashes in the back of Merlin’s neck, sharp lines of color against his pale skin, kept hidden by his neckerchief and revealed only when his mother’s homespun cloth slipped in the wrong direction.

“There was a snake inside him?” Percival asked, sounding a little sickened. “A snake head?”

“Yes – Gaius cut it out, but another one grew back…”

“What was the enchantment supposed to do?” Leon asked.

“Control Merlin…”

“…and make him do what?” Elyan asked.

“Kill Arthur,” she said simply.

All of the men breathed sharply in surprise – even Arthur, though he was far enough away to not have been heard over Gwaine furiously whispering, “And how was keeping this from Arthur a good idea?!”

“How do you think he would react if he found out?” Guinevere snapped. “Either he would lock up Merlin or go after Morgana or both!”

“Merlin told me,” Leon said. “He wanted a crossbow to… to kill Arthur… I thought he was _joking_.” His voice nearly cracked with horror.

“He wasn’t – that was how Gaius and I knew where to find him, only barely in time to save Arthur. The first time, anyway. Just…”

She sighed, and Arthur heard a sniffle from her, and couldn’t help but feel a vindictive _good_ ring through his head as he thought of all the lies before feeling sorry, then feeling guilty about being sorry, then…

He had to stop thinking about his feelings.

“I don’t know too much of what happened after that,” Gwen said. “Gaius said the only permanent cure would be to kill the mother beast – and Merlin took off.”

The four knights went silent in shock, and Arthur’s heart skipped several beats as the implication sunk in, that Merlin went _looking_ for Morgana and…and what?

“He tracked down Morgana?” Gwaine asked incredulously.

“I assume so…I tried asking, but Merlin won’t talk about it. But the snake isn’t there anymore and it hasn’t grown back since Gaius cut out the second one.”

“Is that where he was?” Leon asked. “Tracking Morgana? Because I have a hard time believing Merlin would spend two whole days at the tavern.”

“Yes,” Guinevere said, before sighing. “I don’t know if he confronted Morgana herself or not, but he definitely went to wherever it was she held him and found the beast and destroyed it. I _hope_ he didn’t find Morgana…”

“Well, he’s alive, isn’t he?” Percival asked. “It’s unlikely he would’ve survived meeting her if she knew he wasn’t her slave any longer.”

“Unless the old man was there,” Leon muttered.

“What old man?” Guinevere asked.

“…the one that killed Uther,” Elyan said. “We ran into him in the forest.”

“What?!” Guinevere cried out, only to be shushed by her brother. “You man the old man that nearly framed me for enchanting Arthur?” she hissed.

“Yeah,” Gwaine said. “And – he knew us. All of us. He knew our names, he knew… things, things he had no right knowing. He talked to us like he knew us, like we should know him.”

Arthur swallowed. When Arthur had shown up at the old man’s hovel, the sorcerer had known exactly what he was looking for. Did he read minds, somehow? How could they implement any battle strategy against someone who could _read minds_? How -

“He threatened Arthur,” Gwaine said darkly. “Said if he met the king there was a very good chance he’d kill him. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to run him through… Leon stopped me.”

“I assumed Arthur would want him alive,” Leon said. “The man killed his father, he can’t _not_ execute him publicly. But the man was… powerful – threw us all back, or moved us against our will… I’m only surprised he didn’t just have us kill each other.”

There was more silence, and Arthur tried not to rage around the corner at the sound of them being _so close_ to capturing his father’s killer.

“Why _didn’t_ he just have you all kill each other?” Guinevere asked curiously.

“I don’t know,” Gwaine said. “But I have a very bad feeling about this man.”

“Let’s hope he’s captured soon, then,” Guinevere said. “So we can at least have one less evil to worry about.”

“That still leaves Morgana,” Elyan said. “And the fact that we can’t trust Merlin.”

“We can!” Guinevere cried out immediately. “He was _enchanted_ , Elyan, not a traitor. I’ve seen his neck, and he’s returned to normal – he is no longer enchanted -”

“It’s not trusting Merlin we have to worry about,” Gwaine said. “It’s trusting _anybody_

– Morgana isn’t particular about her targets… how do we know at any moment there isn’t someone else in this castle trying to harm Arthur? Besides the proposed traitor?”

“What if the traitor is under Morgana’s control?” Percival challenged.

“This is getting us nowhere,” Guinevere muttered, so low Arthur could barely hear her.

“Look,” Leon said. “We can’t go around accusing everyone. Let’s just… keep an eye out. I mean, Merlin was acting _really_ odd, we can keep an eye out for anyone acting that odd, and make sure to look after Arthur a little more. We’ll keep a sharp eye out on each other if needs be – and let Merlin know, too – and if one of us seems to be acting strange, we’ll stop it.”

“Do you mean to say we go around assuming we’re all trying to kill Arthur?” Elyan asked dubiously.

“If Morgana is out there and she can bend even the strongest of men to her will?” Gwaine said. “Yes.”

“The strongest of men?” Leon asked, sounding as dubious as Arthur felt. “Merlin could hardly be described as the-”

“I don’t mean physically,” Gwaine said, exasperated. “I mean… can you think of anyone in the kingdom with a stronger will, a stronger character, than Merlin? Or at least anyone more stubborn than him, besides Arthur himself? Merlin would lay down his life for Arthur without a second thought, he’s Arthur’s right-hand man, and he the one most loyal to Arthur, barring none… and Morgana could still make him try to kill Arthur. What will that do to the rest of us? Or anyone else – say some random servant in the kitchens with access to Arthur’s food, to poison him?”

Arthur could feel his gut clenching in fear at that thought.

“Merlin tried that already,” Guinevere said dully. “It was why he got so furious, under the curse, when I’d arranged Arthur’s lunch – he must’ve thrown the food into a pig pen because the next day, barely half of Arthur’s food was eaten by those pigs and they were all dead.”

Well that explained a few things.

Leon drew in a sharp breath, and Gwaine said, “See what I mean?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on Arthur’s food ever since,” Guinevere said. “Merlin has been testing it for poison himself.”

“But what if it is poisoned?” Leon asked, and Arthur couldn’t agree more. That _idiot_ , what was he thinking?

“He feels guilty,” Guinevere said quietly. “I’ve been trying to get him to stop, to feed little bits to an animal instead, but he insists testing it on himself is the only way to be absolutely sure, and make sure Arthur never knows.”

And back to that again – everyone was lying to him. All the people in the world he trusted, risking their life to make sure he doesn’t know the truth.

He was starting to hate this crown. He couldn’t be sure, but he was fairly certain there wasn’t nearly this much lying going on when he was prince.

Then he thought of all the things he never told father, and promptly felt his lungs twist inside him at the guilt. Was this _normal_ , to always have to seek out the truth yourself when you were king?

“I don’t like this,” Percival said. “Arthur should know!”

“And then what?” Leon, _Leon_ of all people, asked. “She’s right, Arthur can’t know. Either he won’t believe us about the enchantment and might lock up Merlin -”

“Oh, please, lock up _Merlin_?” Gwaine said disbelievingly.

“-or he _will_ believe us and go out to hunt down Morgana for himself and get himself killed in the process,” Leon continued. “Look at what happened at the battle against Queen Annis – he made himself the champion in the battle to the death. Arthur’s desire to keep everyone else out of harm’s way is admirable, but it’s putting the Pendragon dynasty and the kingdom of Camelot in danger… if Arthur’s dead, what’s to stop Morgana from seizing the throne?”

Arthur couldn’t breathe. He’d barely ever thought about it that way, he knew it would remove him from the throne, but… Agravaine, or his cousin… or, even if he hadn’t had time at the battle, even now, naming an heir… but all of that could go out the window if he didn’t have his own heir and Morgana wanted the throne.

He shut his eyes and slid down the wall as Leon continued speaking.

“Until Arthur has an heir, she has _every right_ to take the throne when Arthur’s dead. Look at what she did to Camelot in just a week of ruling it – what would happen if she had total control of the throne?”

“And unless you’re hiding a baby under there,” Gwaine started.

“Gwaine!” Elyan snapped. The man’s indignant squawk covered up the slight thud of Arthur’s behind landing on the hard stone floor, his back stinging from scraping against stone through the clothes.

“ _Elyan_!” Guinevere shot back impatiently in that sisterly tone Arthur once associated with Morgana. Back when they were small, when they were friends. She’d been more of a sister to him when they didn’t know they were related than when Arthur knew she was his father’s daughter.

He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his chest. Wearing the crown of the king had always made him feel lost, or like a child, but never had he felt so much like both at the same time until now.

“At the very least,” Leon said. “Maybe you should ask Arthur if he seriously intends to marry you…?”

“He _does_ ,” Guinevere said with conviction.

“Then tell him to do it,” Gwaine said. “At least if you are Queen, that’s one more obstacle in Morgana’s way when Arthur finally offs himself -”

“Gwaine!” Leon scolded.

“What?” Gwaine snapped back. “It’s true – Princess is so dead set on sacrificing himself, we need to plan for his death, because at the rate he’s going, it’s inevitable.”

“No,” Percival said. “We can watch out for him, protect him, that’s what we’re here for -”

“We can’t protect him from himself,” Gwaine said.

“Merlin can,” Elyan said quietly.

More silence, and Arthur had to stop himself from jumping up and going around the corner and shaking all of them, demanding the truth out of them. Why have none of them ever said this to him? That was what they were supposed to do. Maybe he wouldn’t have put Camelot at such a risk if he’d realized how easy it would be for Morgana to seize the throne in the event of his sudden death…

…but then, maybe his champion would have killed Annis’s, and they would be in the midst of a devastating war right now.

“You’re right, Merlin can,” Gwaine said. “But – can we really let the fate of the entire kingdom rest on the shoulders of one man? And what happens if something like this happens again, if something happens to Merlin again?”

Arthur’s stomach clenched at the thought of Merlin suffering without his knowing, the horror of Merlin having to go through it again, go through _anything_ like that again. Merlin was a servant, just a servant. He wasn’t a warrior by any means, he was just supposed to follow after Arthur and look after him and be amusing and be _there_ , be there when no one else was. Merlin wasn’t supposed to be targeted by Morgana.

All of a sudden, though, he was starting to see why Merlin was being driven to drink. Everyone else had realized what Arthur should have seen right before him, and Merlin was bearing the brunt of the consequences.

 _I’m so sorry,_ he thought to Merlin, opening his eyes to focusing on a crack in a brick in the wall opposite to him.

“Look,” Elyan said. “This isn’t something we can deal with in the middle of the hallway.”

“No, really?” Gwaine drawled. “We do need to talk to Arthur about his plans with Gwen, and plans for an heir, but I would think the fact we can’t figure it all out here would be a given-”

“We’ll try and talk to him tomorrow,” Guinevere cut-in, before firmly adding, “Though I’d appreciate it if you didn’t discuss my womb as though it’s a political asset just yet.”

“Sorry,” Gwaine and Leon said sheepishly in unison.

“Go get your rest for your reports tomorrow,” Guinevere said. “We can try to talk to Arthur then.”

They left, they all left, but Arthur stayed right where he was, staring at the wall across from him and trying to lose his mind in the cracks. What he wouldn’t give to disappear into those cracks and never come back out again.

What was he going to do?

Being king had never felt so difficult. And he hadn’t even been king for that long – was this all he had to look forward to for the rest of his life?

He shut his eyes again, pressing his face into his knees, and took several deep, shaky breaths, and for a moment, just a brief moment, indulged in his fantasy of the future. Of a Camelot rid of fear and full of peace, with Guinevere and Merlin at his side and surrounded by his loyal knights.

Forget it, _he told himself, feeling that future slip through his fingers and pull further and further away from him._ It’s never going to happen. __

And he knew that, now. It would only ever be a fantasy, if everyone around him felt it was so easy, so right, to lie to him. The future he’d dreamed of was slipping away, slipping through those cracks in the wall, and Arthur had no idea how to get it back.

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize sincerely for this being late. Next chapter will still be posted this Friday, so hopefully that will make up for it. Please drop a line and let me know what you think! :)
> 
> (Also, I had some trouble with the formatting, so if you notice anything that seems off, please point it out so I can fix it!)


	3. Chapter 3

~*~

After a restless night’s sleep, Arthur woke up to Merlin and George both setting out his morning meal like breakfast was a battlefield. George would set out the plate and cup, and arrange the food with picturesque precision, and Merlin would rearrange it according to Arthur’s preferences. George would put them back where they were supposed to be, Merlin would put them where he knew Arthur wanted them to be.

“Just leave it,” he snapped at them both, not bothering to clamp down on his delight at the way both of them jumped and whirling around to face him.

“Sire!” George said. He bowed hurriedly. “I do apologize, I hadn’t realized you were awake -”

“Oh, shut up,” Arthur said, pushing himself out of bed. If it weren’t for the fact Merlin seemed to be, at least temporarily, improving under George’s tutelage, he would have already gotten rid of the irritating man. Then again, this had also been done out of punishment, one he now knew Merlin didn’t deserve, or at least not for the given transgression. He thought of all the other times Merlin had ‘gone to the tavern’ and wondered how many of those times were an excuse to do something else, and he wondered how many of those times were because Merlin didn’t want to watch his master and king doom himself and the kingdom they both served.

“I will spend the morning here, and attend council at noon,” Arthur said. “George, I need you to fetch the records of crop outputs from the last decade from Geoffrey. Merlin, you’re helping me dress.”

As the men nodded, they also moved to make last adjustments to the breakfast table. Rolling his eyes, Arthur snapped, “For god’s sake they’re _meals_ , stop treating them like battlefields!” As both them looked down in apology – for all that George was so dull, it was quite surprising how alike in manner they were at times – Arthur added, “At the rate you two are going, I think I’m going to delegate all matters concerning my eating to Guinevere.”

George looked like he wanted to protest, his training as a servant and respect for station the only things keeping him silent. Merlin just looked despondent, with that kicked bunny expression that always tugged at Arthur’s heart. Any other time, he might offer an easy ultimatum for Merlin to earn back whatever he wanted that wouldn’t make Arthur look like he was caving in, but not today. He needed only to remember the lies that hid behind that sad face to remember why he was so angry with him in the first place.

Arthur spared a moment to wonder if George was lying to him about something, before motioning the other servant to go to Geoffrey at once.

As soon as George was out the door, Merlin asked, “Are you all right?”

“What do you think?”

“From the way you’re acting?” Merlin offered, a cheeky grin on his face. “What’s gotten you in such a mood when you’ve only just woken up? Breakfast can’t have possibly offended you.”

“…sometimes,” Arthur said carefully. “You just wake up and know that today is going to be a bad day.”

The cheeky grin fell off Merlin’s face, and was replaced by a subdued, sad smile. “Yeah… I know how that feels.”

He turned towards Arthur’s wardrobe, pulling out several items of clothing, and Arthur fell into their normal routine of deciding what he would wear for the day. Merlin held up his clothes and Arthur shot them down and Merlin made jokes, like they always did. It was a comforting routine.

And for a moment, just a moment, Arthur let himself believe everything was as it should be.

~*~

After spending the morning working through what to expect of every fief from past records, Arthur went down to the council chambers with Merlin at his heels. Like always.

Should he be watching his back? He’d depended on Merlin to keep an eye out for him so long, he realized he no longer remembered how to do it himself. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Leon and Gwaine both spoke to Merlin. From the way Merlin went pale, then blushed, Arthur figured they were asking him something involving the enchantment.

Merlin smiled at them, and the two knights laughed and patted his back and everyone went back to where they were supposed to be. Arthur turned to see Guinevere rolling her eyes at the knights as she poured Agravaine’s wine.

“Gentlemen,” he addressed the council calmly as Merlin laid out the records and Arthur’s notes. “I hope none of you intend to try and deceive me again.” With a sharp, tense smile towards his knights around the table, at Merlin laying out the notes, and at Guinevere pouring everyone’s drinks, he said, “If my servants and ‘common’ knights can manage to be true and honest with me so easily, it should be a simple matter for you.”

He felt a vindictive rush at the way all of them gave him hesitant smiles, almost pained in Leon’s case. Then, when a small bloom of guilt followed it, he crushed the feeling, instead turning his entire focus to preparing for the upcoming winter.

~*~

The meeting was unsurprisingly long and arduous, and Arthur’s patience was thinner than a horse-hair by the time he dismissed the arguing councilmen. The only success he could say came out of it was getting them to argue so much, none of them could effectively challenge him when he demanded they leave a little more of the crops to the people who farmed them while still paying him the same taxes. They were so focused on minor feuds that it was easy for Arthur to turn their blame games on each other without any of them successfully resisting it as a measure from him.

“I’d say that was a reasonable success,” Merlin said when the rest of the council was dismissed. He, Arthur, and Elyan were the only ones left. Elyan was shifting through the papers, but with the manner of a man waiting for something.

“What is it, Elyan?” Arthur snapped, despite knowing very well what the man wanted to address.

“I wished to talk to you, sire,” Elyan said. “On behalf of the knights.”

Arthur wondered vaguely when talking to him on behalf of the knights had gone from Leon to Elyan. He opened his mouth to tell Elyan no, before thinking better of it.

They wanted to keep things from him. Arthur wanted to let them, wanted to turn it against them, make them feel the same pain of lies as he did.

But he also knew that would accomplish nothing.

“I think all of us need to talk,” Arthur said. “Ever since I assumed the throne we have been too busy with one thing or another – perhaps we could do with sharing a quiet meal.”

Merlin smiled at him. “Want me to prepare one of the small dining rooms?”

“No, no,” Arthur said. “We’ll dine in my chambers, less worry about prying ears – we can relax more.” _You can drop your guard more._ “Merlin, you and Guinevere can arrange enough food for eight – she might as well join us – and Elyan, make sure to let Percival, Gwaine, and Leon know. And -” He looked at both of them with a serious smile. “Let’s keep this little dinner between us – otherwise everyone will be asking to join us and that would just defeat the whole purpose, now wouldn’t it?”

Merlin grinned outright, and Elyan laughed and said, “Of course, sire.”

~*~

Arthur spent the rest of the afternoon going through their existing stores, and figuring out how best to redistribute it among the city’s people now to make room for incoming stores and put the grains to use before they rotted. He rearranged some of the patrols to account for the extra guard needed in the southern borders and arranged for some of the castle guards to head to the three villages near the swelling rivers in desperate need of help to build their dams, and soon enough, he found himself telling his guards, “Go home for the day. Let the night shift know some patrols may be coming back early.”

“Thank you, sire,” the guards said.

The council men looked at Arthur expectantly, and he said, “Let’s hope tomorrow is more productive before our people starve, hmm?”

That night, he walked slowly up to his chambers. Any other time, and the thought of a quiet dinner with those closest to him in the world would make him be jumping for joy and leaping towards his chambers. But not tonight. Tonight, he dreaded eating a meal with an entourage of liars.

He walked in to see the knights already there, helping Merlin and Guinevere set out the dishes with two platters of food taking up the center of the table. It was a small banquet, and some part of Arthur wondered if George had anything to do with this, but he dismissed the thought and said, “Come, let’s eat.”

They started eating as Gwaine started telling a daring tale of a recent boar hunt, with Percival interjecting to correct Gwaine’s outrageous boasts. It was just like old times, Guinevere laughing as Gwaine pretend to flirt with her, Merlin jesting with Leon, and Elyan and Percival dueling forks. Arthur let it wash over him, this age-old contentment wrought from friendship alone. Somehow, despite the fact he couldn’t trust _anyone_ at this table – not even himself – he still wanted to lose himself to this.

“How come you’re so quiet, Princess?” Gwaine asked. “Don’t tell me the food isn’t to your liking.”

“It’s not the food,” Arthur said. “It’s your rather dubious company.”

“Oi!” Gwaine said. “I thought I was your favorite company?”

“I don’t know what gave you that idea,” Arthur said. “Is it all the drink or are you just that deranged?”

“Yes,” Leon said. “Clearly, I’m his favorite.”

Immediately, all the knights descended into playful banter over which was the best company, and Guinevere gave an amused, “You’re all equally intolerable,” but with fondness in her voice. Merlin just laughed and coughed on his food as he did so, and again when Leon and Gwaine both thumped him on the back, really only making it worse.

“I’m pretty sure Gwen is Arthur’s favorite company,” Merlin said cheerfully.

The knights all laughed, but Guinevere’s grin shrunk to a small smile, and when Elyan caught sight of her, he grew equally subdued, until all the knights were as well.

“Actually, sire,” Elyan said, looking between his sister and the knights. “That was what we wanted to you about.”

“Oh?” Arthur asked.

Guinevere took a nervous bite of chicken, and said, “Arthur… I understand that you marrying me will be difficult, but…do you actually plan to?”

Arthur looked down into his wine goblet and didn’t say anything.

“It’s just – the line of succession was already tenuous when your father was king, even more so now,” Leon offered. “Marrying Gwen, considering an heir – this will help secure the line in your favor.”

Arthur slowly nodded. “That is wise of you, Leon,” Arthur said, looking up to smile encouragingly at the man. Before looking at Guinevere. “Our marriage will be difficult, and wrought with many challenges, and will complicate matters in the court… but, it will happen, of that I can assure you.”

Guinevere gave him a more genuine smile. “I don’t doubt that, sire.”

“Please, Guinevere, we’re in friendly company,” he said, trying not to bite his tongue on his words. “No need to use titles.”

Guinevere nodded. “Arthur, I just mean… all of us worry. You put yourself in so much danger. Camelot could become unstable in your death. I have little care for romantic gestures or being queen or consort or anything like that. But the line of succession is important to Camelot’s safety, and I know whatever affection you may hold for me, I come second to Camelot in your heart, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“She has a point,” Merlin said. “You’ve always run arse-first into danger -”

“Hey,” Arthur said, with half-hearted warning as the knights laughed, some of the tension at the table broken.

“- and now it’s a little more dangerous,” Merlin continued. “Not for you, you’ve always been stupid about danger to yourself… but to Camelot.”

“… I know,” Arthur admitted softly, before taking a sip of wine, followed by a bite of the pork. “I only recently realized that.”

“But now you did, right?” Merlin asked. Arthur nodded, and the other man smiled. “So now you’ll actually listen to me when I tell you you’re being stupid?”

“Well _that’s_ pushing it, listening to your constant chattering,” Arthur said. “If I always listen to you, I’ll go deaf.”

The rest of the table laughed, and started digging into their food again.

“I’m glad you all thought to bring this to my attention – I depend on you to show me the truth when I can’t see it for myself,” Arthur said.

Merlin and Guinevere’s smiles tightened, and Arthur wasn’t even paying attention to the rest of the knights by this point, except for noting that they each seemed to have momentary trembles in their hands before smoothly continuing eating.

“I am actually glad we are all here, I had a thing or two I wanted to discuss myself,” Arthur said as casually as he could, taking an easy sip of wine before setting the goblet down.

“Like what?” Gwaine asked around a mouthful of chicken, to which Guinevere reached over and slapped his shoulder while scolding him about manners.

“Like when any of you were planning on telling me that Merlin was captured by Morgana and enchanted to kill me.”

~*~


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you following from the kinkmeme, I've updated there as well. :)

~*~

_“Like when any of you were planning on telling me that Merlin was captured and enchanted by Morgana to kill me.”_

Simultaneously, they all froze, Gwaine not chewing, Leon’s goblet stilled at his lips, the rest with forks frozen at various stages to their mouths. They all stared at him in shock, Merlin pale and staring at the plate in front of him, Guinevere trembling and nearly dropping her fork, the knights’ eyes all widened in apprehension.

Arthur sipped his wine and set it down. The thud was loud against their shock.

Gwaine slowly chewed and swallowed, Leon drank, and the rest slowly set down their forks, none of them looking him in the eyes.

“… how did you hear that, sire?” Guinevere asked carefully.

“When were you planning on telling me?” Arthur challenged.

None of them said anything, all clearly struggling to find something to say.

“Well?” Arthur demanded, leaning forward in his seat. “When were any of you planning on telling me the truth?”

“Arthur,” Merlin said carefully. “You have to understand -”

“That all of you _lied_ to me?” Arthur snapped, no longer bothering to hide his hurt and fury. “That you all kept secrets from me? One which involved a direct threat to me – to Camelot? One which involved Merlin being hurt?”

They all flinched when he stood up sharply. His chair scraped across the floor and fell back, which Arthur ignored as strode to the window, wanting to just _get away_ from them all.

Even here, though, Arthur could feel the tension slithering through his limbs and wrapping around his neck like a noose. The silence was broken only by one of them – Merlin, from the sounds of it – righting Arthur’s chair.

“You all lied to me,” he said thickly around the lump forming in his throat. “You’re among the only ones I trust in this world with what really matters.” He swallowed as he heard the shift of a chair on the stone floor as Merlin retook his seat. “My life I put in the hands of many, but the well-being of Camelot is something I never thought I would have to worry about guarding from any of you.”

He turned back to their shamed faces and said, “Outside of this room, there are only two other people in the world I could trust as much, and they are also the only candidates for this potential traitor in our midst.”

Merlin looked nearly ready to either jump up and say something, or break down and cry. Arthur felt the same way, except he was already up.

They were all still silent. Occasionally, Guinevere or Gwaine or Merlin would open their mouths to say something, but they never actually spoke.

He couldn’t stand it, this silence, them refusing to say anything.

“Enjoy the rest of your dinner,” Arthur snapped. “I might as well dine alone if I’m the only person I can trust, now.”

“Arthur, wait,” Merlin said finally, standing up again with pleading in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Arthur, we all are -”

“I know I’m a little rash,” Arthur said. “But you could have just a little more faith in me. I’m not my father, Merlin, do you really think I’d execute you just for being enchanted?”

Merlin shook his head. “I didn’t keep it secret because I thought you’d execute me -”

“Then _what_ , Merlin?”

Merlin’s mouth opened, then closed, then he shook his head to himself and said, “I- you… I just-”

“Just be quiet, Merlin,” Arthur said. “You know – I went to the tavern, yesterday. I meant to ask the barkeep to not let you in, haul you back up to the castle if you tried to drink. Imagine my surprise when not a single tavern in the city said you were there regularly. Half had no idea who you were, never heard of you.”

Merlin paled, and Arthur continued with, “You’ve been lying to me for months, Merlin, more than a year. Here I was worrying about you, thinking you’d end up worse than _Gwaine_ and losing yourself to drink, when all this time you were fine, and you were lying to me.”

Now Merlin did look ready to cry. “I’m sorry -”

“What was it, then, Merlin?” Arthur snapped. “Can you tell me the truth?”

Merlin’s mouth opened and closed like some demented fish, before shutting with a click of his teeth. Shutting his eyes as though in pain, he slowly shook his head.

“Merlin…” Leon started to say, but he faltered under Arthur’s glare.

Arthur’s jaw ached from tension, but he just spat, “So be it.”

Without waiting for a response from any of them, he stormed out of the room, no longer feeling in a mood to hear their excuses, their lies, again.

~*~

After hours of walking around, resentment brewing in his belly, Arthur ended up in the middle towns – outside the Rising Sun of all places. Arthur glared at it, thinking of all the times Merlin disappeared and wondered how many of them were from Merlin _actually_ drinking, if any of them at all.

He briefly considered going inside – this tavern was popular among nobles for a reason, he knew the barkeep would be discreet.

But no – he had too many things to do. He couldn’t afford to get drunk, not tonight.

He kept walking, over the gates and through the walls, sometimes sneaking around and sometimes not. It was still strange, going through the city at night and realizing he no longer had to hide from the guards, no longer had to worry about his actions or whereabouts getting back to someone that he had to answer to. Half the time he forgot, still sneaking about before realizing even if the guard _did_ catch him, it didn’t matter.

Besides, he preferred sneaking about. More fun, that way. It reminded him of simpler times, when he was only a prince…

Arthur tried not to feel despondent that he was already referring to just a year back, just a few _months_ back, as ‘simpler times’. He tried not to feel guilty that this was the biggest reason he wanted his father alive again – so he could go back to being prince again.

He slipped into the antechamber of his room, and then peered into his primary chamber. The knights and Guinevere were gone, as was most of the food. Merlin was still there, turning down his bed. The room was clean, fire was lit – and Arthur noticed there was still a plate of food left on the table. He pulled back into the antechamber, standing in the darkness and staring at the opposite wall.

He spent a nearly embarrassing amount of time just standing there, listening to Merlin’s quiet movements. Finally, he simply shook his head and entered the room, standing there for a long moment.

He tried not to wince when Merlin flinched upon finally seeing him.

“Arthur, listen,” Merlin implored as he walked up to Arthur’s side. Arthur walked past him towards the table. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but he hadn’t eaten much at dinner.

“I’m eating,” he said curtly. “So shut up.”

“Arthur -”

“I said _shut up_!” Arthur snapped.

Merlin sighed, then disobeyed by pushing the food – all of it Arthur’s favorites – towards him while saying, “I understand, you didn’t eat much -”

“I guess I had my appetite ruined by the company,” Arthur grumbled.

Finally, Merlin subsided, flitting about the room some more before eventually just sitting on the other side of the table, fidgeting in his seat. Arthur finished his meal, before pushing away the empty plates and sitting back to stare down Merlin.

“What are you really doing?” Arthur asked, trying his best to be calm. “When you say you’re going to the tavern, what’s really going on?”

“I…” Merlin swallowed, opened his mouth, then closed it again, shaking his head. “Arthur, I can’t…”

This time Arthur just stared in shock. “ _What_?!” Even now, Merlin was keeping secrets?

Was anybody _ever_ going to tell him the truth?

Merlin shut his eyes and said, “Please, Arthur, just… I have secrets. Dangerous secrets. Secrets that can get me killed.”

Arthur didn’t stop his brow from creasing in worry as he said, “I’m sure whatever dangers you face, I can protect you, Merlin.”

“…can you protect me from me? Or from you?”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up. “Protect you from one of us? That’s a bit melodramatic, isn’t it?”

“It’s true,” Merlin said helplessly, looking down at his hands, before biting his lip and turning his head away as his leg started jittering. “I… I have secrets. But – you have to trust me, Arthur -”

“I’m King, Merlin, I don’t have to do anything you tell me to do,” Arthur snapped, leaning back in his seat.

Merlin shook his head. “I’m not talking about king to servant, Arthur, I’m talking about Arthur to Merlin -”

“-and that gives me even less reason to trust you, at the moment,” Arthur said, slumping into his chair as he realized the truth of it. “How long have you been lying to me?”

“Since the day we met.”

Arthur sat up sharply as Merlin looked at him, straight on. “You – what? That’s… you’ve been with me for five _years_?! Merlin!”

Merlin’s moment of strength wavered as he said, “I’ve always had secrets, Arthur. One of the first things my mother taught me was to lie, and to hide.”

Arthur frowned as he thought of sweet, kind Hunith – the woman who he only met a few times but always felt to him what he thought having a mother must feel like – teaching her son how to be a treacherous snake. “What kind of secrets could you possibly need to keep from birth?”

“The kind that… the kind that makes people turn their back on you, no matter how long they’ve known you, or how long you’ve been friends, how long you’ve trusted each other. The kind that gets you killed by even the most well-meaning and noble of people,” Merlin said sadly. “I don’t – I wish I didn’t have… these secrets. I wish I didn’t have to lie.”

“Then don’t,” Arthur said simply, starting to feel more and more terrified with every word Merlin spoke. “Just tell me.” _I promise I won’t kill you,_ Arthur thought. He didn’t miss Merlin’s implication that Arthur would kill him for those secrets. Anything Merlin did couldn’t possibly be that bad, and if he did then it wasn’t Merlin, anyway… was it?

“I can’t, Arthur,” Merlin said, pushing himself up and pacing before the fireplace. “I want to, Arthur, but I can’t. It’s complicated and horrible and – I need to protect myself, and I want to protect you -”

“Protect me? You?” Arthur asked incredulously.

Merlin stopped to nod earnestly at him, before pacing again. “Please, just…” Merlin took a deep breath. “If I told you… before Morgana turned on us, before she disappeared, before any of that… if I’d told you Morgana had tried to kill Uther after I’d been in your service for less than a year, what would you have said? Or done?”

He didn’t respond at first. Then…“I would have called you a liar,” Arthur admitted. “And had you locked up in the dungeons. Merlin…are you saying…?”

“Guinevere’s father,” Merlin said. “Was accused and killed due to a man named Tauren – a man who Morgana later met in the middle of the forest after Uther had imprisoned her for a few days. She led Uther out to her… to Gorlois’s grave, and Tauren was supposed to ambush them. At the last minute, Morgana defended Uther. I thought…”

Arthur’s jaw was aching from the tension as he said, “That was nearly four years ago, Merlin. Much has happened since then -”

“That was an example, Arthur,” Merlin snapped. “That sometimes, things happen, but… you’re a good man, Arthur, better than I or anyone else ever could be. You look for the best in people, and you see it when no one else can. But – sometimes, that makes you a little blind to people who _aren’t_ the best they could be.”

“Then you’re supposed to tell me -”

“Arthur, if I told you every single thing I was suspicious about, you wouldn’t have time to run this kingdom,” Merlin sighed, stopping to face him. “And… I break the law, Arthur. I do things I shouldn’t, I… I make deals and do bad things and I do it all to protect you and protect Camelot, and I hate myself for it but there’s no other way. At best – at _best_ – you would have to make horrible, horrible decisions that… that would rip you apart, Arthur, and you make enough of those as king, I won’t make you choose any more awful things like that, and – and like I said, that’s the best case scenario.”

Arthur just stared at his ranting servant. “What the… Merlin, you can’t- For god’s sake, Merlin, you’re just a servant!”

“I know!” Merlin shouted at him, before apparently regretting it and turning away to face into the fire. “I know, Arthur, I do, I just – there are things which… which shouldn’t be understood, but which I _do_ understand, and I don’t… I can’t tell you. I want to, Arthur, so _badly_ , but I can’t. Just – know this. Everything I do, it’s for you or for the good of Camelot.”

“You sound like you’re about to be executed,” Arthur said with a frown, slowly standing up.

Merlin let out one choking sob, the sound ripping at Arthur’s heart, as he stepped closer.

“I may well be, Arthur,” Merlin said. “I’m happy to lay down my life for you, Arthur, but I’d rather it not be at the hands of your own executioner.”

Arthur laid a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. The man jumped, whirled around, and backed away in surprise. Arthur had to grab onto Merlin’s arm when he tripped and hold him before he fell into the fire.

“Idiot,” Arthur chided, pulling Merlin back to the table. For a moment, he let the affection wash between them, before shaking his head and dropping back into his seat.

“Arthur…” Merlin didn’t add anything to that.

“When you talk like that, Merlin,” Arthur said slowly, trying to take in everything Merlin had just told him. “I can’t… I suppose I can’t guarantee to not kill you. But I do promise you this – I do not doubt your loyalty to me or Camelot. Your veracity and your word, maybe, but not your loyalty.”

Merlin smiled, thin and watery but real. “That’s… that’s all I ask, sire.”

“But Merlin – how can I be safe?” Arthur asked. “Or my kingdom? What if something like this happens again? You acted so odd while you were enchanted -”

“Did I?” Merlin asked with hapless curiosity. “I don’t… I don’t remember. Everyone’s been telling me about it. Gaius seems to find my lack of assassination skills amusing.”

Even Arthur couldn’t help but quirk his lips at the thought of _Merlin_ being a killer, and smile outright at Merlin’s betrayed pout. “Well, I suppose it is good for us that you’re a terrible assassin. Do you really not remember?”

Merlin bit his lip, then said, “Gwaine said you hugged me, when you found me. I was covered in bog and mud but you hugged me anyway.”

Arthur blinked. “I just – I thought we’d lost you. Everyone thought you were gone, telling me to give up. But I couldn’t let you go, Merlin.”

Merlin just stared at the table. “Out of all the things I wish I could remember, Arthur – a hug from you tops the list. You hate affection of any kind, and… I’d waited years for that sort of thing. And when it finally happens?” A look of disgust crossed his face. “I was Morgana’s _slave_.”

Arthur shut his eyes. “About that…”

He remembered Morgana’s viciousness, always present from childhood. When he was young, he’d had plans of covertly making her his chief war councilor when he was king or turning her loose on annoying nobles. She loved ripping apart men like that, and Arthur loved watching it, seeing the results. He thinks if she hadn’t betrayed them all, they would have made a brilliant pair, ruling the kingdom together.

He wished he’d known she was his sister before she’d turned on them all. He wouldn’t have minded going to the throne knowing she was second in line, or even just giving her the crown entirely, if she really wanted the power. So long as Arthur could protect his people, he would have been happy, and he wouldn’t have minded being under someone else to do it, whether it was his father or his sister.

But then Morgana had to go and turned that viciousness on their people. He’d seen the devastation her immortal army caused, he’d listened in horror as Leon described the way she killed innocent bystanders when the knights refused to submit to her.

That, more than anything, is what made Arthur think of her as a traitor. Not turning against father, not turning to magic, not seizing the castle – all of those actions were secondary. It was the fact that she had turned her back on _Camelot_ and its people that made her a traitor.

“What about it?” Merlin asked quietly.

“What did she do to you?” Arthur asked. Merlin shutting his eyes in pain should have been the only answer he needed, but he pressed on anyway. “Whatever you remember – what did she do to you?”

“I – the last thing I remembered was watching you behind the rock fall,” Merlin said. “Then I woke up – I was in her hovel. I was chained to the ceiling, and she’d just thrown a bucket of cold water on me.”

Arthur looked to Merlin’s shoulder, and Merlin followed his eyesight, then nodded with a grim smile. “Yeah, it… it hurt.”

Arthur thought of all the stab wounds he’d ever had and the sprained shoulders he’s gained over the years, and tried to imagine healing from those while chained to a ceiling and being drenched with cold water. He clenched his teeth, his mind and memories easily providing a far too vivid vision of what Merlin had gone through.

Merlin had once been Morgana’s good friend, and what she did to him…she would pay. And pay _dearly_.

“So what then?”

“We talked,” Merlin mumbled. “She asked me why I was so loyal to you. I told her she would never understand. She… she cleaned my wound…” And Merlin shuddered here, and Arthur wondered what more there was to it. His mind unhelpfully offered several possibilities, and Arthur shoved them all away before he gave in to the urge to get up and go hunt Morgana down right then and there. “And then she did this spell… it was like a snake, but it had a half-dozen heads. She treated it like a pet, but then she cut off one of the heads. It grew back, but the one she’d cut off was still alive, and… she came over to me, and then told me my task was to kill you. Then she put the snake head to the back of my neck…”

Merlin was trembling by this point, and when Arthur reached up to lay a comforting hand on Merlin’s shoulder, Merlin flinched away, before saying, “It hurt, Arthur. It – the next thing I remember is waking up in Gaius’s chambers with him and Gwen standing over me, telling me it’s been several _days_ and that I’d been spending those days trying to kill you, and… and… I didn’t want to kill you, Arthur, I don’t…”

“Merlin,” Arthur said, gently reaching again and laying his hand against Merlin’s shoulder. This time, he didn’t recoil. Arthur just squeezed, trying to be comforting. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been, being at her mercy, and it made his mind rage and his heart sink just thinking about it, let alone hearing Merlin’s broken voice describe it. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m -”

“You don’t get to be sorry for being captured and enchanted,” Arthur insisted.

“Then I’m sorry for not telling you about it,” Merlin said softly, reaching up and wrapping his hand around Arthur’s, his warm fingers curling into the back of Arthur’s palm. “And for… for lying to you all these years, and… for the fact I will have to keep lying to you.”

Arthur’s hand tensed at the reminder that there was still so much Merlin wasn’t telling him. He also thought of the dangers Merlin described, his gut squirming at the thought of Merlin facing them alone. He also thought of a young, young Merlin learning to lie before he should have, and of Merlin’s fake and weary smiles, haunting Arthur’s sleep at their worst.

“Then don’t lie to me,” Arthur said. Merlin opened his mouth and Arthur said, “If you don’t – if there’s something you’re doing and you can’t tell me about it, just say so. Just don’t lie to me outright, not about… your secrets.”

Merlin pondered. “Will you – what will you do, if you know I’m doing something I shouldn’t be?”

“Trust you,” Arthur said, trying not to wince at how close to a promise his words were coming to. “Even in lying to me, I know you were only protecting Camelot.”

Merlin smiled at him. “I… thank you, sire.”

Arthur gave Merlin’s shoulder one last squeeze, then said, “Now, clear these plates, and get some rest. Council is going to be a nightmare, tomorrow, and we will both need our strength to deal with that many slimy idiots in one room.”

Merlin grinned outright, and nodded vigorously. “Of course, sire.”

Arthur watched in something almost like content as Merlin finished turning down the bed and stoking the fire for the night, dimming all but a few of the candles, and laying out his nightclothes on the bed, before stacking up the plates, saying an over-grateful, “Goodnight, Arthur,” and leaving.

Arthur smiled at him, right until the door closed, before sighing and getting up.

He hoped Merlin didn’t notice that Arthur never actually promised not to do anything about it if Merlin ever told him he was up to something. He tried not to feel like a liar, himself, as he went to bed, dreading the time Merlin would say he was up to something that he couldn’t tell Arthur about – and dreading Merlin _never_ saying something even more.

~*~


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is directly in line with episode 407 "The Secret Sharer".

~*~

A week passed, during which Arthur and Merlin slowly returned to their normal routine. Merlin cajoled Arthur out of bed in the mornings and kept him on his toes during Arthur’s duties, and made his day just the tiniest bit brighter as everything else conspired to dim it.

Arthur trained with his knights during the few minutes a day he had to himself, and thankfully they didn’t try talking to him, instead just clashed swords and quarterstaffs and let the catharsis stem from the fight.

He also spoke quietly with Guinevere, mostly in passing but intimate nonetheless. Mostly they talked of little things, about the running of the castle, how her duties as one of the chamberlains of the castle were faring.

Unfortunately, though, there was still a traitor in their midst. One possibility came up to him accusing the other, and within a day…

“How can you believe this?” Merlin asked as soon as the door closed behind Agravaine.

“I know how you must feel,” Arthur said, thinking back by just a few weeks to when Agravaine was his main suspect. “We questioned him. He’s been consorting with sorcerers, he more or less admitted to it.”

“And that makes him a traitor?” Merlin asked, while looking at the opposite wall, a column, anywhere but at Arthur. Arthur had to restrain from ordering of Merlin, _look at me_.

“Why run if you have nothing to hide?”

“Because you’re scared and you know you’re on the verge of being framed?” Merlin said, as if the answer was obvious. “He’s given his life to this kingdom, Arthur.”

“Then explain his actions!”

“They’re all lies,” Merlin said, gesturing to the books. “Gaius would never run off like that in the night…”

“Merlin, all the evidence -”

“ _He wouldn’t_ ,” Merlin insisted, leaning on the table. “Not without saying goodbye to me, if nothing else. Arthur, he’s been abducted, and Agravaine’s made this story up, and you refuse to see it -”

“ _Enough_ ,” Arthur ordered, refusing to listen anything else. “I will not hear you talk like that of the only family I have left.”

“So you’re going to ignore all the evidence against your uncle and accept all the false evidence framing mine?” Merlin asked hoarsely, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

Arthur stood up and gestured down at the books before him on the table. “Gaius admitted to knowing that sorcerer that killed my father, and then this? He condemned himself, Merlin.”

Merlin froze with a pained look on his face, and Arthur hated Gaius right then, for doing this to all of them, for making Merlin resent him so for protecting his kingdom. Arthur was no fool, he could see pain and determination in Merlin’s face as Arthur walked out of the council chambers, and he knew that Merlin would never let him forget this. Nor would he forgive it.

As he walked out of the council chambers, Arthur wished he could forgive himself.

~*~

Once upon a time, Arthur probably would have felt guilty about sneaking around the castle and spying on his friends, but he knew now there was so much they weren’t telling him, and it seemed the only way he could get that information or their real perspectives was through eavesdropping.

And if nothing else, being able to sneak around the castle again was nice. There were moments he could almost pretend Merlin was right behind him and they were about to go on some daring mission against his father’s will.

He waited until Guinevere slipped into Gaius’ chambers before approaching the by the door.

“Thought you were him,” Merlin was saying. Arthur wondered who he meant – Gaius or Arthur? Guinevere’s footsteps moved through the room, and then Arthur rolled his eyes as Merlin, yet-again, blamed Agravaine for Gaius’ disappearance.

“Arthur told me what you said,” Guinevere informed him gently.

“He won’t listen to me,” Merlin said, to the sound of papers shuffling. Arthur flinched at the bitterness in his voice.

“I’ll do what I can,” Guinevere said. “But Agravaine’s his uncle… he trusts him more than anyone.”

Arthur frowned. Guinevere believed this, too? Why did they both hate Agravaine so much?

What was it that Arthur didn’t know?

~*~

Arthur waited in his rooms, pacing, and nearly pounced on the door when there was a knock. He barely restrained himself and instead called out, “Enter.” 

Gwaine walked in with a sad smile on his face. “Hello, Princess.”

Arthur sighed. “I don’t know whether to be more offended at the fact you’re still calling me by a lady’s title at all or that you’re _not_ raising the title to ‘Queen’ give my ascension to the throne.”

“Do you want me to call you that?” Gwaine asked wryly, quirking an eyebrow.

“No,” Arthur said flatly, before shaking his head and pouring out two goblets of wine. “How’s Merlin?”

“Holding up, barely,” Gwaine reported. “Keeps saying Gaius was abducted.”

Arthur groaned. “He’s not going to drop this, is he?”

“Of course not,” Gwaine snorted, picking up one of the goblets for himself. “Have you ever met Merlin? You know how stubborn he is.”

“He makes mules look complacent.” 

“He suspects someone,” Gwaine admitted. “Won’t tell me who.”

At that, Arthur frowned, and the knight took a sip of wine and added, “He had some sprinkled iron ore on this thumb – seemed to think it would lead us to Gaius’s kidnapper. I don’t know where he got it from, though.”

Arthur could make a pretty good guess.

“We ride out in half an hour,” Gwaine said. “To the Ridge of Camerraine.”

Arthur gave him an incredulous look, which Gwaine responded to with another sip of his drink. “Gwaine, you can’t seriously -”

“Either Gaius is a traitor,” Gwaine cut him off. “And Merlin needs to find out for himself… or Gaius really has been abducted and we need to rescue him. Personally, I’m hoping it’s the latter because then at least he’s not a traitor, but either way, Merlin needs to see for himself.” The knight stared at him seriously over the rim of the goblet. “Gaius is Merlin’s uncle and mentor, the only family Merlin has in Camelot – do you really think Merlin would take some words and simple evidence? He’s not you, Princess, he doesn’t accept things face value.”

Ignoring the subtle slight, Arthur thought of Guinevere and Merlin’s suspicions against Agravaine and nodded. “Look after him, Gwaine.”

Gwaine raised an eyebrow again and Arthur rolled his eyes. “I know, you’ll always look after Merlin, but -” He looked Gwaine right in the eye. “If I can’t be there for him, I know you can stand there in my place.”

“I’d rather die before letting any harm come to Merlin, and you know it,” Gwaine said, before smiling. “I should be insulted that you’d even have to _ask_ me to look after him.”

“That’s what you get for calling me Princess,” Arthur said flatly.

Gwaine laughed as he set down the only-half empty goblet. “Take care of yourself, too. I can’t have you die on me, Merlin and Gwen would be insufferable.”

Arthur rolled his eyes yet again. “Yes, yes, now go.”

~*~

By the next afternoon, Arthur found himself staring as Gwen rubbed down Gaius’s forehead, and Agravaine said, “We both owe Gaius – and Merlin – an apology.”

Arthur nodded, trying not to stare too long at the old man’s frail, unmoving form, trying not to notice how Guinevere wouldn’t even look in his direction, and trying not to wonder where Merlin was.

Gwaine was waiting for him outside his chambers, a somber look on his face.

“I take it you need a word with me?” Arthur said sullenly as they both trailed into his chambers. Arthur sat down and gestured to the other seat, but Gwaine remained standing, looking almost agitated.

“Gwaine?”

“Let me say this first,” Gwaine said. “I like Agravaine. He’s competent with a sword even though he’s never been a knight, he didn’t make a big fuss out of me and the others being commoners, and he’s never been the type to place rank over efficiency or safety. So I like him, I really do – for a high-ranking nobleman, he’s not bad.”

“But you think he is the traitor?”

At Gwaine’s confused look, Arthur said, “Just because no one will tell me anything doesn’t mean I can’t try to find out on my own. Guinevere and Merlin already suspect Agravaine.”

“Why -”

“There are only two people I know of right now who could be the traitor, Gaius and Agravaine,” Arthur said. “Gaius has been a servant of Camelot and a close friend for all my life, and Agravaine is the only family I have left. Every _thing_ points to Gaius as the traitor, every _one_ is saying it’s Agravaine.” He stared at the knight bleakly. “How am I supposed to choose?”

Gwaine sighed. “I’m sorry, sire, I really am, but…”

“What did you find?” Arthur asked.

“Nothing concrete,” Gwaine admitted. “Just a lot of things that feel… off.”

“Such as?”

“When I found Agravaine, he was standing over Gaius with a knife,” Gwaine said. “He said he was using it to see if Gaius was still breathing, look for his breath against the blade – but it certainly didn’t look the way before Agravaine knew I was there. The blade was by Gaius’s throat. And when I asked him how he knew where Gaius was, he said he’d followed me and Merlin… but he looked as if he’d had to think about it. I know it’s all circumstantial, but none of it felt right.”

“You’re right, it is circumstantial,” Arthur said. “But I’m not going to discount it just yet.”

Gwaine nodded. “I just thought you needed to know.”

“Have you seen Merlin yet?”

“No,” Gwaine said. “Probably still out looking for the kidnappers.”

But Merlin was back by nightfall, and the next morning Arthur stood outside Gaius’s door, trying to work up the courage to knock.

“I’m ashamed,” he heard Gaius say, and stopped in confusion.

“Why?” Merlin asked.

“Your secret,” Gaius clarified. “The one that I thought I’d protect with me life…”

Still so many secrets. Still so many lies. Arthur’s knuckles rested against the wood of the familiar door, which had never felt so alien in his life.

“You could have died,” Merlin said.

“If Morgana had found out -”

“But she didn’t,” Merlin reassured Gaius. “Lucky for us she didn’t count on Alator’s true loyalties.”

Who in the damned hell was Alator? And how did Morgana figure into this?

“I worry that one day I will let you down,” Gaius said.

_Join the order,_ Arthur thought bitterly, hand shaking against the door. He didn’t want to hear more. He just wanted to go in there and apologize and be _done_ with it.

“My worry is Arthur,” Merlin said. Arthur wondered why Merlin didn’t reassure Gaius this time.

“We can’t tell him about Agravaine,” Gaius said.

“He needs to know!” 

“We don’t have any evidence,” Gaius pointed out. “And you’ve seen how dear he is to Arthur.”

Gaius. Even Gaius was telling Merlin to lie. He even talked as if they already knew Agravaine was guilty.

Whatever it was they knew, Arthur suddenly found he _didn’t_ want to know, and weak and trembling as it was, he finally knocked.

Merlin and Gaius were both looking up at him as he walked in, Merlin sullen and wary, Gaius just exhausted. Merlin turned away to look at Gaius.

“I think I owe both of you an apology,” Arthur said.

Merlin gave him a long, considering look, then said, “Not to me – to Gaius.”

Arthur nodded. “Yes, then… Merlin – can you give us a moment alone?”

Arthur didn’t see Merlin’s face, but suddenly Gaius was smiling, fond, at whatever Merlin’s expression showed, and Arthur didn’t have to see his face to hear the smirk in his voice as he asked, “Does that mean I get the morning off?”

Now Arthur just rolled his eyes, but tried not to feel relieved that he was at least somewhat forgiven. “Yes, you can have the morning off… to clean my chambers, polish my armor, and launder my clothes.”

“You certainly know how to apologize,” Merlin said with a small grin as he stood up. But as he approached, Merlin gave Arthur an encouraging smile as he left, and Arthur nearly told him that George had already taken care of those chores.

Nearly. If Merlin was going to make him waste time memorizing that stupid speech, Arthur was going make him waste time finding out his chores were already done.

“I’ve made a mistake,” Arthur said to Gaius a few moments later when they were alone.

“I’ve looked after you since you were a nurseling,” Gaius said, a faint note of scolding in his voice.

“I know,” Arthur interrupted. “And for that, I… I should have known,” Arthur said.

“I love you too much to ever betray you, Arthur,” Gaius said, with the same smile he used to give Arthur when he was ill as a child, and some part of Arthur twisted in discomfort that Gaius was the ill one and giving him that smile, even as the rest of him contented itself with that small familiarity.

“Gaius… who abducted you?” He was apparently a bad enough king that everyone who he cared for kept everything a secret from him, but _this_ , getting revenge on whoever kidnapped Gaius, he understood, and he could do, and he doubted even Merlin would object to it.

So of course, Gaius “couldn’t say” who it was. Arthur wondered if that meant Gaius didn’t know, or didn’t want Arthur to know, but the end result was still the same for Arthur.

“Are you sure?” he asked anyway.

“The only thing I am certain of,” Gaius admitted, “was that they were in league with Morgana.”

Arthur thought back to the conversation he’d just overheard. Morgana – Morgana did this. Was she connected to the traitor? It made a horrible kind of sense, but knowing his sister was at it again also just made things worse.

“What did they want?” Arthur asked. What was Morgana looking for?

“Information,” Gaius said. “About you… Camelot… to help bring down the kingdom.”

Arthur knew immediately that wasn’t it, at least not all of it – something in there was a lie. And he’d already overheard Gaius’s conversation with Merlin.

Morgana was the one other person in the world save Merlin who knew Arthur best, and she certainly had no gaps in her knowledge of Camelot – Arthur knew perfectly well she knew more about this castle than him, from the sheer number of times she’d run away from minders and tutors as a child. She’d shown Arthur many of the castle’s secrets Arthur knew now, and he had no doubt there were some she kept from him, and which he to this day had yet to discover.

“Did they get it?” Arthur asked, before remembering, right, Gaius just said the secret he thought he’d protect with his life -

\- was Merlin’s.

“Morgana got nothing from me,” Gaius insisted. Nonetheless, he didn’t seem proud of that and Arthur knew Gaius enough to recognize his slippery words that his father had never noticed. It was probably true that Morgana didn’t get anything from Gaius, but it wasn’t because of Gaius enduring whatever torture he had been put through.

He snorted in disbelief, but hopefully it came out as one of relief, and by the look of Gaius’s face it did.

He sat by the bench and put his hand over Gaius’s, looking for strength in those old, worn hands that had taken care of him so well in his childhood, helped him through every bruise and scrape and broken bone and injured pride.

“There’s a matter that still concerns me,” Arthur said, trying to pick which one to ask about – because he knew full well, now, there were only so many questions Gaius would answer for him, at least tonight. “Why did you lie about the sorcerer who killed my father?” Arthur finally asked.

“Because he didn’t,” Gaius answered. He gave him a sad, sympathetic look. “Uther was dying, Arthur, and the sorcerer did everything in his power to save him.”

“How do you know?” How could he _possibly_ know that?

Gaius sighed and pointed to a shelf on the wall under the balcony of books. “There’s a box there, the green one with a latch. Fetch it for me and I will explain.”

Arthur did so, and Gaius rummaged around inside it, before pulling out a small pendant.

“I found this on your father after his death,” Gaius told him.

“And…?” Arthur asked, confused.

“It’s enchanted,” he explained. “It takes the effects of certain spells and reverses them.”

“Like healing spells,” Arthur supplied after a moment, already seeing where this was going.

“That Uther died so quickly can only mean the sorcerer expended much power to save Uther in the first place,” Gaius said.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

Gaius looked away, a guilty expression crossing his tired features. “I was… afraid, sire. You… you are your father’s son.”

“His son, not him,” Arthur snapped, before turning away, and taking several deep breaths, before turning back to face his weary physician. “I’m sorry, just…”

“This is a powerful enchantment, sire,” Gaius said.

“Are you saying you think Morgana had something to do with it?” Arthur asked, taking the necklace in hand.

“I am sure of it, sire,” Gaius said. “And either the traitor in your midst is in league with her, or there are two of them.”

“I’m not sure which one would be worse, at this point,” Arthur said hoarsely as he continued to stare at the necklace. Agravaine was the only family he had left, he wasn’t Morgana’s family at all – why _would_ Agravaine turn against him? Turn to Morgana?

Was it even Agravaine? Just because everyone was saying so… everything had seemed to point to Gaius, but it wasn’t him. What if it was a two-fold deception, implicate Gaius to in turn implicate Agravaine, keeping suspicion off the real traitor?

Arthur’s head hurt from all this, and his heart even more so. Either way, someone close to him, someone he _trusted_ with his life and the well-being of Camelot, was a traitor, working with Morgana, who’s main goal appeared to be nothing less than annihilating Camelot.

“Why would he help, though?” Arthur mumbled. “I did tell him when I was king, things would change… what if the old sorcerer did put it there, to make himself look good, speed things up? Or…”

Gaius put one of his hands on Arthur’s, warm and firm. “Arthur – there many types of people in this kingdom, and I am not the only one seeking to protect you.”

“Are… you saying there are sorcerers on my side?” Arthur asked, hardly daring to believe it.

Gaius smiled. “There are many who believe in the world you are trying to build.”

Arthur nodded. “If…” If he ever changed the laws on magic, it meant his father had been wrong. It would also mean his father was a murderer, killing innocent people for no reason. But what if there was a reason? His father wouldn’t just kill an entire race of people just for existing, there had to be something more, there had to be. His father wouldn’t do that…

…would he?

Arthur immediately cast the thought out of his mind. His father was a great king, and maybe he’d gotten some faulty information somewhere along the line, or maybe things changed and none of them were able to see it – but his father had had good intentions, had protected the people, and there had to have been a good reason for his actions. His father had flaws but at heart he was a good king. Arthur couldn’t believe otherwise, could never betray his father’s memory like that. Especially not so soon after the man’s death.

Gaius patted his hand, and said, “I must rest, sire. But someday, Arthur, you will understand just how much they’ve done for you.”

Arthur left the old man to rest, taking the box back to the shelf where he found it. Still, he pocketed the pendant on the way out.

~*~

That afternoon, Merlin paled when he saw the pendant sitting on the table in Arthur’s room, which told him everything he needed to know.

“So you knew, then?” Arthur asked. “About who really killed my father?”

“Gaius told me not to say anything,” Merlin admitted. “But… how -”

“Gaius told me, himself,” Arthur informed him. “This traitor in our midst hasn’t just been sabotaging my reign as king – they killed my father.”

Merlin gulped, and Arthur waited, but the other man said nothing about Agravaine.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, his tone brooking no argument, “Gaius has the best of intentions at heart, I know that. But whether because he is an old man or just too accustomed to fear… if he says not to tell me something, then that probably means you should.”

Merlin swallowed again, setting down the lunch platter next to the pendant on the table. “I…”

“I mean it, Merlin,” Arthur said. “I am my father’s son… but not my father. I need you to remember that.”

Merlin opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur continued. “I need you to remember that because, one day, I might not.”

Merlin closed his mouth – _so this is how to get him to shut up_ – and just stared at Arthur, blinking owlishly.

“Do you… what do you mean, Arthur, about being your father’s son but not your father?” Merlin asked.

“That old man,” Arthur said, watching the afternoon sunlight glint off the necklace. “The one who I thought killed my father – he actually tried to save him. This man had magic and had he succeeded, my father would have tried to have him killed, but he did it anyway.” He looked up at Merlin. “How am I supposed to believe magic is evil? Gaius certainly isn’t, that man isn’t… and yet Morgana…”

“I think Morgana,” Merlin said, carefully picking his words. “Is angry. That anger comes from hate, and that hate comes from fear. Because all her life, she was alone with that power, and if anyone found out, it would have meant her death. That – is intimidating, and isolating.”

He’d never thought about it that way. “I wish she’d told me. I mean – I wouldn’t have killed her. At worst, I would have exiled her, or even… tried to learn. I don’t know. There were a lot of things she should have told me.” Arthur swallowed. “She was standing right there when I told my father I would give up the crown to be with Guinevere – why didn’t she say anything then?”

“I don’t know,” Merlin said, sitting down and slowly picking at Arthur’s lunch. Arthur felt in irrational surge of affection just watching Merlin poke at the bread, surprised and relieved that, for the first time in days, Merlin had dropped his guard enough around Arthur to do so. “She said she deserves the throne to Camelot – but she keeps trying to destroy Camelot. Instead of using me to try and bring her power or discredit you, she only wanted your death. I think… I think she is more concerned about vengeance than power. She would be a lot smarter in her actions if they weren’t all done from anger, and, well, if she really is after power alone, then a lot of what she does is just plain stupid, really.”

Arthur looked at Merlin, who was looking at the piece of bread in his hands. “Sometimes, Merlin, you are so… inexplicably wise.”

Merlin grinned at him, cheeky and insolent like always. “I do tell you that you should listen to me more.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, even if, somewhere deep down, he agreed. “I would if you talked to me and told me the truth more.”

Merlin’s eyes dimmed, and Arthur felt a tugging of regret but didn’t take back his words. “I’ll try,” Merlin said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “I will.”

Arthur smiled at him. “Good. Now stop stealing my food.”

Merlin swiped some grapes in response, and for a moment, this felt _right_.

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter dedicated to my lovely beta, Angel Queen. Happy Birthday!
> 
> Please review, even if it's just to let me know you're still reading. :)


	6. Chapter 6

~*~

Arthur held the pendant up in court the next day.

“We had been led to believe that the old man who had promised to heal my father had killed him,” Arthur said. “But it seems he did not – he actually did try to save him.”

Another pause, a keystone of effective speeches where you needed to stop and let people process the information a moment. But only a moment ‒ don’t let them think _too_ much.

“It seems my sister finally succeeded in committing both patricide _and_ regicide,” he said, and the furor broke out almost instantly. People asked how he knew, what she did, what was going to happen. To his side, he could hear Guinevere crying quietly, held up by Leon and Elyan.

“This pendant is enchanted to reverse the intent of spells done upon the person wearing it, and was found on my father’s person after his death. We hadn’t realized its enchanted properties until now,” Arthur explained to the court at large, to Camelot. “If the old man had tried to kill my father, then I would still be prince. My sister knew that magic would be used to heal my father, and ensured his death. The traitor in our midst alerted her to our desperation, to our plans, and placed this pendant upon my father, causing his death.”

He hardened his look, trying to be a firm king. “This was put there by the traitor, the one we have been seeking. Whoever you are, know this – when we find you, you will regret killing my father and the king of Camelot. And to everyone else, be wary – for this traitor has committed regicide, and shows they have no honor or mercy to speak of. I will stop at nothing to find the one who killed my father. We cannot dishonor his memory and do any less.”

~*~

“You’ll find him, Arthur, I know you will,” Guinevere said as they headed back to Arthur’s chambers for lunch. After Arthur’s announcement, the councilmen were more than happy to oblige when he announced the council meeting was cancelled for the day. “They won’t get away with killing your father.”

“Well, considering everyone here seems to know who the traitor is except me, that is debatable,” Arthur said curtly. At his left, Guinevere sighed, and at his right Merlin drooped like the sad puppy he apparently was.

They arrived to his rooms to see George already setting out lunch, and Arthur threw his hands up in exasperation as Merlin and Guinevere both jumped in, all three of them squabbling over the arrangements of the meal.

The knights arrived behind him shortly afterward, and for a moment, all five men stood there watching as the three servants kept moving plates, one of them setting down a plate in a particular arrangement only for another one to move it again.

“Should we… stop them?” Leon asked uncertainly.

“Nah,” Gwaine said, barely suppressing his laughter. “Let’s see how this plays out.”

“If we _don’t_ stop them, they’ll go on forever,” Arthur sighed. “I’ve seen it myself.”

They spent another few minutes watching, before Arthur finally got fed up and told all three of the servants to step back from the table.

“Look, just sit down and eat,” Arthur said. “No one cares where the plates go except you three, I can assure you of that.”

George looked scandalized at the thought of eating with the king and left instead. He shot disapproving looks in Merlin’s direction, though not in Guinevere’s. Whether that was because she was much obviously closer to Arthur or because she was a chamberlain, now, he didn’t know.

“So,” Arthur began as they all sat down, trying not to laugh at the way Guinevere and Merlin quietly continued rearranging the plates. What was the point of all the fuss? Opting this time to just ignore them, he said, “The traitor has killed my father, and the old man we thought had done the deed is innocent.”

“This doesn’t mean you’re just going to let the man go free, is it?” Gwaine asked suddenly, uncharacteristically agitated. “He’s still a liar, still a threat, and he _gets into our heads_ and is happy to use that against us!” Arthur frowned in the face of Gwaine’s odd antipathy towards the old man, and opened his mouth to speak.

“He saved me.”

As one, all of them turned to Merlin.

“It was the Old Man who fought against Morgana,” Merlin told them quietly. “I destroyed the Fomorragh, but he got it in the first place.”

“Dragoon held off Morgana?” Arthur asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Merlin confirmed. “He got the creature from her hovel and fought her off, even knocked her unconscious. He’s as powerful as her, at least… and she was afraid of him.”

Arthur stared at him for a long time, before turning back to Gwaine. “The man tried to save my father, and _did_ save Merlin. Do you still insist on tossing him onto a pyre?”

Gwaine stubbornly didn’t respond, just continued to glare at his goblet. He was at least as protective of Merlin as Arthur was – he would be as unable hate anyone who defended Merlin.

“He saved me too, I think,” Guinevere spoke up. “Morgana framed me for using a love spell on Arthur – then this man showed up and took the blame.”

“ _Why?_ ” Arthur demanded.

“Because he believes in you?” Merlin offered, tipping his goblet towards Arthur pointedly, the water inside it in danger of pouring over.

“Yes, but why the rest of us, then?” Guinevere asked.

“Not all sorcerers are inherently evil,” Merlin mumbled, and Arthur thought of Will. An ass and a grump, but certainly not evil. “Maybe he just… is trying to protect everyone?”

“He tried to save my father, and he did save Guinevere and Merlin,” Arthur continued. “To be honest, as annoying as the man is I am starting to feel rather indebted to him.” Arthur turned to Merlin, who swallowed whatever he’d been chewing. “Talk to Gaius and see what you can do about tracking this man down. I owe him an apology as well.”

“What about the laws on magic?” Guinevere asked, taking a sip of water. “If he still believes that he’ll be killed coming here, I don’t think he’ll be all that eager to come to his potential death just for an apology.”

Arthur felt one of those moments where he was sure he was at a life-changing crossroads. His knights and Guinevere and Merlin were all looking at him, awaiting his word, and Arthur got the very strong feeling this would end up being one of the most important moments of his life.

Or maybe that was just the wine talking, nevermind that he only had a few sips thus far.

“My father… had his reasons for banning magic,” Arthur said carefully. “And I believe those reasons were just, because my father would not be otherwise.” Merlin’s face told Arthur what he thought of that. Arthur considered telling him off for treason, but remembered Merlin usually spouted off a dozen treasonous things at him before he even got out of bed in the morning. “But I also believe things can change, and people can change. Morgana turned on us because of the fear my father’s hatred of magic instilled in her, and now it’s too late to save her. But maybe we can stop this from happening to anyone else.” Arthur sighed, and thought of Mordred, the little Druid boy from so long ago. He would be an adolescent now, almost of age. “If nothing else, I can’t abide by my father’s conviction that children deserve to be drowned just for having magic.”

And there it was, that moment again. Everyone was smiling at him, and Merlin… Merlin’s eyes were filled with hope, and something dangerously close to tears. Gwaine said, “I knew there was a reason I liked you, Princess.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say I’d change the laws, just… look into them. Times change and people change, and laws need to change with them.”

“This is why you’ll be a great king,” Merlin said, his voice soft.

“Or at least a mostly functional one,” Gwaine quipped, and Merlin threw a grape at his head, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

“There is another problem,” he intervened before the two men could erupt into a full-fledged battle, “of just which man is the traitor.”

“Which?” Leon asked in confusion. “If it’s not Gaius, then who -”

“Agravaine,” Gwaine, Merlin, and Guinevere all answered in unison. Percival and Elyan said nothing, but both men glanced at one another and narrowed their eyes thoughtfully. 

“Agravaine?” Leon asked incredulously, before he looked at Arthur. “Sire…?”

Arthur rubbed the bridge of his nose. “All the physical evidence points to Gaius. All the collaborative evidence points to Agravaine…”

“Arthur,” Merlin said. “I went through Agravaine’s rooms -”

“ _What?!_ ” Arthur demanded. “Are you mad? Madder than usual?”

“He went through Gaius’s!” Merlin said defensively. “And anyway…” he turned to Gwaine. “I got the iron ore from his boots. _Before_ we went riding out after Gaius. And,” he added, “I’m sure they’re gone now but I found books on sorcery under his bed, just like the ones that were planted in Gaius’s room.”

Arthur shut his eyes. He wasn’t fool enough to forget that most of his suspicions of Gaius started with Agravaine, and now everything was pointed to him as the traitor. His uncle, his mother’s brother… why would he do this?

When he opened his eyes, the knights looked a little despondent, and Arthur could see why they’d be upset. For all that Agravaine placed too much heart into the power of his rank over the servants like most other noblemen, he never kicked up a fuss over Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan being commoners, and never tried to treat them like servants as many other noblemen had during their first few weeks in Camelot. Arthur himself had depended so much on Agravaine… what turned Agravaine against them all?

“Is he… in league with Morgana?” Arthur asked, dreading the answer.

“Yes,” Merlin said, knuckles white around the fork in his grasp. “I’m sure of it. He…” Merlin swallowed. “Morgana had Gaius kidnapped because she was looking for someone named Emrys, a powerful sorcerer. _Really_ powerful. A few months ago, right after the Dorocha attack, Agravaine asked Gaius about him.”

Arthur pursed his lips. “So my uncle and my sister killed my father and now seek to kill me.”

Merlin nodded in sad assent, and Guinevere reached over and took his hand in her own.

“You’ve still got us,” she told him softly.

“Yes,” Arthur replied, squeezing her fingers. “At least you admit you have secrets that you won’t tell me.”

Guinevere’s hand tightened, and Merlin flinched, bowing his head.

“Did it ever occur to you that sometimes we have _reasons_ for not telling you things that aren’t because of treason?” Gwaine offered critically, and why was Arthur being critiqued by _Gwaine_ anyway? Gwaine looked pensively into his goblet and added, “Sometimes they’re just embarrassing.”

“Oh, please,” Arthur scoffed. “What could you possibly be embarrassed about? You and Owen and Galahad wandered the entire lower town naked just to prove a point and you were the only one _trying_ to take the main roads. What would you possibly be embarrassed about?”

Gwaine’s knuckles went white as he said, “Like the fact I’m not a commoner?”

The entire table froze. Merlin paled and gaped at the knight in shock, the rest in confusion, and Arthur felt his jaw near the edge of breaking from the tension. Great, more secrets. _More_. Damn. Secrets!

“Damnit, Gwaine,” Arthur growled, before reminding himself, right, Gwaine was here now, and revealing his secret, which was more than he could say for Merlin at any rate, so instead he just took a deep, calming breath or three, and said, “What exactly do you mean by that?”

Gwaine stared at his goblet, and Leon opened his mouth to ask something of him when Gwaine said, “You know, I found it funny that the King of Caerleon didn’t recognize me, when he came to Camelot last spring… I learned some of my best swordsmanship from him.”

Arthur’s eyebrows rose.

“I mean, my mother is his third cousin twice removed, and my father was one of his better knights, one of his best swordsmen… but I knew how much regard the king had for us when he denied aid to my mother after our home was lost and my father died for him in battle,” Gwaine said, his eyes dark with bitterness and anger. “He expected a family-less noblewoman and her children to survive off just a handful of shillings and some false platitudes, without giving us even a room in his home.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me this?” Arthur asked. “For god’s sake, the first time you came here, my father would’ve never laid a hand on you if he knew about your heritage!”

Gwaine looked up. “You wondered why I seemed to dislike all nobles? My father was one of Caerleon’s best knights, and the _king_ -” Arthur blinked sharply at the way Gwaine spat the title, in a way he hadn’t heard in more than a year. “- Refused to help his family, all because he was a commoner whose only claim to the nobility came from marrying my mother – and he decided her rank wasn’t high enough to merit any real help beyond some coins that would not last long enough to be of real help at all. And since the king refused to help, all the other nobles decided they could cast us out to die, too, now that my mother had nothing left. We only survived because of some friends of my father – and even that was barely enough to get by on.”

“So why are you here, now?” Leon asked sharply – the only other nobleman besides Arthur at the table. “If you hate nobles so much…”

“You and Arthur are okay,” Gwaine responded. “I’m not saying anything of my opinion now. For whatever reason, you lot here in Camelot aren’t as bad. Everyone everywhere else is. I’m just saying…” Gwaine paused, then looked at Arthur. “Some of us keep things to ourselves for a reason. I don’t want to be one of the knights who got in just because he was lucky enough to be born into the right family -”

“Oi!” Leon protested.

“I got in because I was a good enough knight to warrant the title, and that is how I want to be remembered.” There was no room for argument in the knight’s tone.

“Then you will be,” Arthur said. Arthur looked at Leon. “And Leon, you proved yourself to be a good man long before you came to serve me. Your background has nothing to do with it.” He looked at them all. “All of you.”

“Well obviously not,” Merlin muttered, but with a bit of humor as well.

“You don’t even know who your father is,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes. “So in your case…”

Before he could continue, he took in the flicker of pain on Merlin’s face.

Of course.

“You _do_ know who your father is, don’t you?”

“It’s like Gwaine said,” Merlin said sadly. “We have reasons for keeping things secret.”

“Oh, gods, you’re not a nobleman too, are you?” Percival asked, and something about his tone of voice made Arthur burst out laughing, and everyone else at the table followed suit.

Arthur didn’t really know why he was laughing. He’d just realized even Gwaine had been lying to him, that Merlin had yet another secret, that…that…

That everything in his life, absolutely everything, was going wrong, and somewhere, deep down, he was hit with the strange sensation that he might not get the chance to laugh like this again for a long, long time.

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This extra chapter is both an apology for taking so long to update, a thank you to all of you for sticking with me thus far, and a celebration of the end of midterms/beginning of spring break. ♥


	7. Chapter 7

~*~

“Do you really mean to change things?” Merlin asked Arthur the next evening while cleaning out his chambers.

Arthur blinked at the non-sequitur question from his seat on the bed, and Merlin added, “About magic?”

Arthur assumed Merlin was nervous on Gaius’s behalf, and said simply, “I have benefited too much from sorcery to believe it _all_ evil. And to be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to drown a child. So yes, I will.”

Merlin beamed at him, and Arthur added, “If you keep grinning like that -”

Merlin puckered his face in order to stick his tongue out at Arthur, and Arthur threw a pillow at him. He laughed at Merlin’s grimace from tasting velvet and silk when the mood was broken by an urgent knocking at the door.

“Arthur!” Gwaine called sharply, and Merlin opened the door for him and Elyan to tumble through.

“Agravaine was just spotted leaving through the eastern gate,” Elyan reported before Arthur could even begin to ask what was going on.

“We’ve already ordered horses to be prepared,” Gwaine added.

“Then go ahead and track him,” Arthur said, jumping up. Merlin was already holding out his chainmail and all that went with it. Elyan nodded and bolted out of the chambers, closing the door behind him. As Arthur dressed, he added, “Did Agravaine say anything to anyone about his destination?”

“No,” Gwaine shook his head. “He was practically sneaking out, Arthur.”

“Where did he go after leaving the gate?”

“The guards said he went towards the plain, but then veered off towards the forest.”

Merlin said, “That’s where you lot found me, right? After I was captured by Morgana?”

“Yes,” Gwaine nodded. “Agravaine seemed to be headed almost exactly in that direction.”

“Must not be too far from the hovel Morgana kept me captive in, then,” Merlin said, and Arthur growled at the thought, trying not to be inundated with thoughts of what Morgana had done with Merlin when he was at her mercy. He was hit with the sudden conviction that Merlin couldn’t go back out there again.

He also knew Merlin would demand to go, to follow Arthur into danger as he always did.

Feigning mindlessness, Arthur swiped Merlin’s keyring, taking the one to the antechamber, and walked into said chamber as Merlin assembled Arthur’s pack and Gwaine continued talking.

“Leon’s already tracking Agravaine,” Gwaine said, following him to the antechamber door.

Arthur nodded as he walked to the other side of the room, locking the door between the antechamber and the corridor. He walked back out to see his sword and pack waiting for him on the table.

“Is there any chance,” Arthur practically pleaded of his servant. “That if I ask you to stay here, you’ll listen to me?”

“When have I ever abandoned you?” Merlin asked, a steady look on his face.

“This isn’t some dragon or battle, Merlin,” Arthur said sharply. “This is _Morgana_.”

“I know, Arthur, believe me,” Merlin said. Then, with a reassuring smile, he added,“We can handle her together, Arthur.”

Arthur sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that,” he said, before gesturing Merlin to follow him, past a very confused Gwaine, towards the small side-room. “Merlin – she’s already shown she has no care for you, and that you are no more than a convenient target for her.”

“I _know_ , Arthur!” Merlin snapped as he followed into the small room, then frowned as there were no particular weapons or clothes waiting for him. “Arthur, what -”

Arthur could feel his guts rip to shreds as he closed the door, with Merlin inside the room, and locked it.

“Arthur!” Gwaine protested, already heading towards the door. Arthur held up his hand, stopping the knight in his tracks, as Merlin pounded on the door and shouted his name.

“I nearly lost you to Morgana once, Merlin,” Arthur called over Merlin’s protests. “I’m not about to lose you again.”

There was a moment of silence, then the other man replied, “I’m touched, Arthur, but let me _out_ of here! You can’t lock me up like this!”

“I expect you’ll pick the lock soon enough, Merlin,” Arthur sighed. “But luckily for me, by the time you do we’ll be long gone.”

“ _Arthur_ ,” Merlin pleaded, voice now cracking in his desperation, and Arthur nearly unlocked the door just for that. “You can’t do this to me, Arthur – you can’t go without me!”

“Exactly,” Arthur said, as a grim but supportive look crossed Gwaine’s face. He took the key from Arthur and carefully set it on the table. “I’m not going to risk losing you to Morgana’s insanity.”

The silence that followed was resentful, and Arthur sighed and grabbed his sword and pack.

“He’s going to hate us for this,” Gwaine commented as they strode away.

“Better alive and hating us than dead and… dead,” Arthur replied as they sprinted through the corridors. “Besides, he’ll be out of there in less than half an hour. I’m ordering the stable hands _not_ to help him, which will slow him down a little more. Now let’s hurry, I don’t want to have to do this again – Merlin won’t fall for that trick again and I don’t want to have to lock him in the dungeons so I can chase after Morgana.”

~*~

As difficult as it was to track someone during the day, it was even harder at night.

But luck was on their side, tonight – there was a larger-than-half moon providing ample amounts of light, and Agravaine, clearly not expecting to be followed, wasn’t bothering to hide his trail, seeking the quickest route to Morgana’s lair. They even crossed the spot where he and Gwaine had found Merlin, and Arthur remembered Merlin’s regretful expression at having no memory of Arthur hugging him, and tried not to think about Merlin now. Arthur didn’t know how Merlin escaped every disaster he fell into, but his slippery servant managed it anyway, so he was probably out by now, trying to fight his way past the stable hands for a horse. Hopefully, where the locks failed, terrified groomsmen would hold Merlin back.

Arthur had his doubts, though.

It still took time, though, especially as they were going without torches. They had little opportunity to spy for anything useful, especially once they had to tie up their horses at a distance from where they were assuming her lair was.

However, they did have enough time to creep over a ridge and see Agravaine bidding Morgana an affectionate farewell.

Morgana was instantly recognizable, despite the many months it had been since he’d last seen her. Not to mention her wild hair and dark, ragged dress. Gone was the High Lady who’d manipulated the Court of Camelot with an iron-clad heart of gold and who had always drawn many a jealous and admiring eye as she sauntered through the halls of their home. In her place stood a poor, mad witch who would go to any lengths possible to destroy that which she once loved most dearly.

His sister was gone, and in her place stood Uther’s daughter.

Agravaine too was recognizable. His uncle was holding his sister’s forearm, reassuring her of something, though Arthur couldn’t hear what. It was the same look Agravaine got in Court or in Council, when talking to Arthur, when…

Was _everyone_ in his family a traitor, Arthur thought a little hysterically? His father betrayed his mother, his sister betrayed their people, and now his uncle was betraying _him_. Would it ever end?

Would Arthur betray someone, simply because it ran so strongly in his blood?

“Told you so,” Gwaine murmured quietly, but there was no mocking or condescension from him. Gwaine nudged Leon, who was between them, and who put a comforting hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“You still have us, sire,” Leon said.

“Just like I had my sister, and my uncle?” Arthur hissed, before all of them quickly silenced as Agravaine mounted his horse.

This time, he heard him say, “Of course I will do it, Morgana. I shall not fail you. And don’t worry about the serving boy, he can easily be kept out of the way.”

“Don’t underestimate him,” Morgana said in a firm voice that Arthur found himself missing, of all things. For a moment, he was flooded with memories of her ordering him around and of him resisting, the two locking horns like the brother and sister they had always been, whether they knew it or not. “Merlin is the most troublesome serving boy in existence. He has stood between me and my throne more than once, and has succeeded every time. There is something about him – I can’t quite put my finger on it – but there is more to him than meets the eye. Much more.”

It seemed she saw now what Arthur had felt the hints of so long ago, in a fight in the marketplace.

“I understand, Morgana,” Agravaine reassured her. “An unusual serving boy… but still a serving boy. He will be disposed of before the week is out, I promise you. Guinevere will take more time, though.”

“No – losing him will just drive Arthur mad. Simply keep an eye on him and misdirect him,” Morgana retorted. “I can handle Gwen. Just deal with Merlin, whatever the cost.”

“Of course, milady,” Agravaine said, before kicking his horse into speed.

He and the knights ducked below the ridge again, and Arthur barely muffled his sharp breaths as the thought of Morgana turning on Gwen, and saw expression of pain on Elyan’s face. He thought back to their childhood again, recalled Morgana putting Gwen in her dresses and jewels like a doll, when Gwen was less a servant and more a playmate for her. He remembered watching them train together with swords when they thought no one was looking. They had been more like sisters, then.

He remembered when Morgana had been his best friend, in a world with no friends at all.

When the sound of Agravaine’s horse finally faded into the night, there was a moment of silence.

Arthur leaned over, trying not to rustle the leaves in the dead silence, and opened his mouth to speak, before stopping and thinking better of it.

Oddly, he didn’t hear the sound of Morgana entering her shack for several long minutes, and Arthur had been about to risk peering over the rise of earth when he heard Morgana’s footsteps and the sound of the door closing.

Knowing Morgana, he was cautious in raising his head anyway, but he saw that the clearing before the hovel was empty.

“This could be our one chance to catch her by surprise,” Gwaine suggested.

“But this is also her territory, her home,” Leon pointed out.

Arthur was about to add, _And we don’t know enough_ , when above him, a cold, sharp voice said, “You’re right, Sir Leon – and don’t you know it’s rude to come into someone’s home uninvited?”

All of them looked up to see Morgana, sharp face and cold voice, standing over them, with a malicious smirk on her face.

“Hello, brother dearest,” she said, raising her hand, eyes glowing gold. “It’s been a long time.”

They all barely jumped out of the way as, with a sharp, guttural spell, Morgana blasted purple-red fire at them. Arthur gasped as he felt a chill emanating from the flames before they died out, and he and the knights scattered when another blast of fire came at them.

“Morgana!” Arthur shouted as he pulled out his sword, turning to face her carefully, trying not to feel her height and territory advantage. “You traitor-”

“Oh _I’m_ the traitor?” Morgana demanded, slowly stepping forward and unmindful of the sharp slope of the ridge. “Tell me, Arthur – I fight for the people you kill without mercy. I fight to save the children from drowning, innocents from burning -”

“But you’ll stick arrows into innocents without magic?” Arthur hissed.

Morgana’s face hardened, that predatory smirk falling off her lips. “They deserve it,” she snarled. “For standing by and watching their friends die without care.”

“Fear is not apathy, Morgana,” Arthur told her. “I would have thought that you of all people would know that.”

She rolled her eyes, though she didn’t let him out of her sight. She kept her hand up and facing him, preventing the knights from attacking her outright.

“Sometimes, in order for something to be born,” she said, “something has to die, first.”

“You already killed so many people, the citizens of Camelot,” Arthur said desperately. “Do you have _any_ remorse for them, if not for killing Father?”

“Why should I?” 

“This isn’t the Morgana I know,” he said.

“The Morgana you knew was a slave to Uther’s whims and reign of terror,” she sneered.

“Yes,” Arthur spat, clenching his fists. “So enslaved she goaded me into stealing grain from him when the people were starving, into snatching food from noblemen’s plates to feed the hungry children, into running around the kingdom against his orders to help those in need -”

“They needed us because Uther oppressed everyone,” she said, slowly approaching again. Arthur stepped back. “As do you. Under my reign -”

“Camelot will burn,” Arthur cut her off. “Why are you so desperate to rule a pile of ashes?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “That crown belongs to me.”

“This isn’t about _the bloody crown_!” Arthur thundered. “If you’d told me you were my sister before you betrayed us all, I would’ve given it to you! I would have _asked_ you to take it!”

She, and the knights, all stared at him, shocked. Arthur felt his eyes prickle dangerously, and clenched every muscle in his head to keep any tears from falling.

“This isn’t about that stupid lump of metal on my head or the bigger one I sit on,” Arthur said. “It’s about the flesh you have burnt, the people you have killed, just for not having magic…” He raised his sword. “You claim to hate Uther and yet you’re just like him!”

She roared in fury and Arthur ducked behind a tree, which barely sheltered him from another blast of her fire. “How dare you claim that _I_ am like him!”

Arthur slowly came around from the other side, sword aloft and eyes sharp, gesturing with his head to the other knights to stay back.

“You killed people over something they had no control over,” Arthur said. “You are so desperate to seek vengeance and satisfy your hate that you have no care for who dies, only that someone does. You are just like him, killing blindly and without mercy!”

“And you think you’re better?”

“I was going to change the laws on magic,” Arthur told her. “Before you framed a sorcerer for my father’s death. If you cared – if you _really_ cared – about magic, you would have stepped aside… or even offered.” Here, Arthur choked around the growing lump in his throat. “You know, if you had offered to heal my father when I was turning to magic to do it… I would have accepted. All those innocent people you murdered so brutally, and I would have gladly welcomed you back in spite of it.” He slowly raised his sword. “Not anymore.”

“Could you really have loved a ‘ruthless murderer’?” she asked harshly, circling him.

“I loved my father, didn’t I?” Arthur snapped. “I wanted you back, Morgana. I wanted you back in whatever form you came in.”

“ _LIAR!_ ” she screamed at him, raising her hand and throwing more fire at him. “Don’t you dare lecture me about right and wrong and fear and love, Arthur Pendragon! You did not have to sit by for _years_ with nightmares and visions you couldn’t understand! You didn’t have to listen to the man you loved like a father and trusted to take care of you talk about how he _hated you_ for years on end! You didn’t have to sit by and watch as everyone around you that was like you died, hunted and slaughtered like animals!”

“No,” Arthur agreed. “I had to stand back and do nothing as the sister who was once my best friend went against everything she once stood for – things higher than kings, higher than magic! – to sink down the depths of vengeance.”

He swallowed. “I like to think I inherited all my… our father’s best traits, Morgana. I’m sorry to see you got all his worst.”

And with that, he struck forward.

He barely took two steps before he was blasted back, and then suddenly the other knights charged at her from all sides, only for her to throw Gwaine behind her, and step out of the way as Leon and Percival clashed swords. Elyan just barely managed to sidestep the fray, before being swung around her like a dead chicken and slammed into a tree.

Arthur tried to push himself up, only to find he couldn’t. He was reminded of his sword’s unusual weight in the duel with Queen Annis’ champion, except now that weight was in his limbs. Every struggle to move made it all the worse, and Arthur only barely managed to turn his head to see the other knights struggling with exactly the same problem.

Morgana smiled, for a bizarre moment looking like her delighted self from so many years ago, when she loved simple pleasures like candied fruits Guinevere used to sneak to her from the market stalls.

It was with soft but dangerous steps she approached him again, standing over him. Arthur knew he wouldn’t be able to hide his terror from her, but it still hurt to see how much she _enjoyed_ his fear.

“Here I was worried,” she said. “About you finding the traitor in your midst. Instead you found me. Now my ally won’t have to worry about killing you – I can do it. My. Self.”

“Please,” Arthur said, setting aside all thoughts of Agravaine and traitors for now. “Camelot is changing, Morgana, and I am changing – I want you to change with me.”

And he did. For all the people his father killed, his father had done his best to protect everyone else, protect the kingdom from outside threats, and help those in need when he could. If his father could be a good king in spite of the rampant murders… couldn’t Morgana do the same? “Remember when we were young – we had so many plans for the future? Together? We can still do that. Please Morgana – I want my sister back.”

She just cocked her head. “No. I’m not falling for your pleading, not when it only comes when you are at my mercy. And I am not going to share the rule of Camelot, crown or otherwise. That kingdom is _mine_! I won’t let you turn it against me ever again!”

She raised her hand one last time, and Arthur kept up his pleas, looking for his sister inside her – only for Morgana to suddenly jerk as if her whole body was caught on a hook, before suddenly being thrown to the side.

Arthur gasped as suddenly, he felt his limbs go free again, and jumped up, turning in the direction of where Morgana was staring in horror.

There stood the old man. The one who had saved Merlin, saved Guinevere, and nearly saved his father.

“Emrys!” Morgana hissed in fury, pushing herself up off the ground.

Arthur watched in both confusion and awe as the man carefully approached Morgana.

"You committed one of the greatest acts of betrayal and still, your brother tried to welcome you back,” the old man said quietly. “He even offered you power and the very changes in the law of the land that you seek, Morgana. That above all else tells anyone with eyes in their heads what you really care about – and it is not bringing magic back to the land."

"You will side with the man who seeks to kill you?!" Morgana asked in outrage.

"Are you _deaf_?” he demanded. He pointed a gnarled finger toward Arthur. “This king seeks to change things and finally bring peace to the land after decades of his father's rampage. And instead of helping, you try to prolong it! Bah! There is the reason why no Druid will stand behind you, and all but the most mercenary of the Old Religion turn you away."

The old man stood tall and furious, hand raised against Morgana, and soon she was dodging fireballs of his making, then running away from some sort of _tornado_ of all things.

“They refuse to side with me because they are _cowards_!” she howled, sounding more like a wild animal than a woman. Arthur cringed at the sound, even as he gathered up his sword and tried to find a way to get out of Morgana’s peripheral sight.

“Desiring peace over vengeance is not cowardice,” the old man said simply, and muttered a much longer, more complicated spell than before. Morgana shrieked as some sort of red bolt of… lightning?… flew at her. She barely dodged it, jumping to the side and shouting a spell of her own. It hit a tree, and the entire tree exploded.

Arthur was pushed back onto his arse by the force of the blast, coughing as something akin to sawdust filled the air, and woodchips rained down around him. Struggling to breathe clear air, he shouted, “Gwaine? Elyan? Leon? Percival?”

“I’m okay,” all his knights answered in their own fashion.

“So am I, thanks for asking,” he heard the old man rasp weakly from somewhere close to his side.

“I’m still not sure what your name even is,” Arthur snapped, squinting through the haze, pushing himself up with his sword in hand.

However, once the dust cleared, it was obvious that Morgana had vanished. Leon and Elyan ran into her hovel, but there was no one there.

Arthur turned around and looked at the old man. “It seems I owe you my thanks – again.”

“I think you we both know you owe me more than _that_ , Arthur Pendragon.”

“I know,” Arthur admitted. “I owe you an apology as well.”

“Mm…” the old man stroked his beard, shaking his head. “And tell me, young king, _why_ should I accept it?”

“Why should you _accept_ it?!” Gwaine cried out, grabbing his sword from where it had fallen and holding it aloft towards Emrys.

“Gwaine,” Arthur ordered with a sharp tone. The old man – Dragoon – _Emrys_ – just looked amused.

The sorcerer turned to the knights and said, “I am quite sorry about our last encounter, gentlemen. As you can gather, now, I was in a bit of a rush.”

“You said you might kill the king, last time we met,” Percival said, voice low and dangerous, slowly raising his sword towards Emrys.

“If I’d let you take me,” Emrys said, “I wouldn’t have been able to end the enchantment about to end your king’s life at the hands of his manservant. That would have been causing his death – the same as killing him, is it not?”

“No,” Arthur shook his head. “Being unable to do anything about someone’s death is not the same as killing them.”

The old man’s smile seemed cheerful, but his words were anything but. “You didn’t say that about your father.”

Arthur tensed, and forced himself to take a deep, allegedly calming, breath. “That is what I need to apologize for.”

“Your apology means little to me, King Arthur,” Emrys said. “We both owe each other much more than that. No, what will mean something is you keeping your end of the bargain.”

Arthur slowly nodded. “I will.”

“Will you?” the old man said. “The number of sorcerers seeking power and destruction are few compared to those who simply wish to live their lives quietly and in peace. Turnips are an argumentative bunch of vegetables, but much less so than soldiers trying to kill you for existing.”

“I know,” Arthur said, mindful of the judging eyes of the sorcerer, and the wary ones of his knights. “I am not my father.”

“Are you sure about that?” the old man asked, shuffling towards him and pushing his face barely a hand’s breadth from Arthur’s. “Your father was quick to discount the words of others if they did not suit his own view. He was a thick-skulled nincompoop with the tenacity of an old mule. He turned away help and comfort, and turned those he sought to protect into prisoners of one kind or another.”

“I’m not like that!” Arthur shouted, jerking away from Emrys and glaring at him.

“Then, pray tell, where is your most loyal manservant?” the man asked, his tone deceptively mild.

“… Locked up in my chambers in Camelot,” Arthur admitted in defeat. He thought back to his comment to Gwaine about not wanting to lock Merlin in a dungeon, and wondered if this was how it had started with his father.

He remembered how Guinevere had feared Arthur locking up Merlin or going after Morgana. He doubted either of them had realized it could be both.

“Well, actually, he’s busy running his horse in circles about two miles that way,” the man corrected, pointing vaguely west. “But I think you can understand my point.”

Arthur looked in the same direction, incredulous. “How did he get out so fast?!”

The old man laughed. “Oh, never underestimate a servant, King Arthur.”

“Morgana doesn’t,” Arthur grumbled. “Merlin and I are going to have a long, long talk when we get back home.”

“He may have drifted a bit further from the castle by the time you find him, all the direction of a concussed frog, that one,” the old man muttered, shuffling off again. “A bit confused, he was. Lucky for you your servant is a terrible hunter.”

“Why do you think I wished to protect him?” Arthur snapped. “I couldn’t risk losing him.”

“Do you think he can risk losing _you_?” the old man demanded, rounding on Arthur with surprising speed for his age and getting into Arthur’s face again. “Do you think _Camelot_ can take that risk? Hm?”

“I – no!”

The old man slowly backed away. “Your father was a fear-mongering tyrant when it came to magic, and refused to listen to those around him, letting himself be ruled by his own blistering heart and growing madness,” the man said. Arthur bristled at the insults, opening his mouth to defend his father despite not knowing what to say. “But,” Emrys continued, blithely unaware of Arthur’s outrage, “he was wise in other matters as well, first and foremost in protecting you, even at the cost of his own life if necessary. You have become too accustomed to thinking a year, months, scant _weeks_ ahead at a time, Arthur Pendragon, from handling all the crises of your father’s making. You have forgotten to think ahead to the next reign, and beyond, for that is how far your decisions will reach.”

“I. Know,” Arthur bit out furiously. God, Guinevere, his knights, and now Emrys? Who next? “My life is not my own.”

The old man smiled, some of the tension leaving his body. “And you wouldn’t have it any other way, would you?”

“Of course not,” Arthur shook his head. _That_ would be just ridiculous. “Not while I wear the crown.”

Emrys laughed, slowly shuffling off again. “And that is why you will bring about the Golden Age of Albion, your insufferable thick-headedness and all!”

Now Arthur and his knights stared at the old man incredulously. “Golden age of…what on earth are you talking about?” Arthur demanded.

“Not earth, no, something a little less tangible,” the man said, stopping at a distance and turning to face Arthur again. “There are prophecies about you, Once and Future King. Many have been waiting for you for a long, long time. You will bring about an age of peace and prosperity throughout all Albion, and you will be a legend for many centuries, many millennia, to come.”

Arthur stared, dumbfounded. “You… _me_? I’m expected to do all that?”

“You’re already trying, aren’t you?” the old man pointed out. “Running around like a rabbit, dragging peace behind you kicking and screaming into every nook and cranny you find…”

“I am trying to bring peace and prosperity to _Camelot_!” Arthur said.

“And the lands and people of King Cenred you acquired?” the old man asked. “Or the people who now reside in Queen Annis’ domain? Or the people who live under the king that has sent two assassins after you now, and who you keep trying to make peace with despite his repeated attempts on your life and his responsibility in your father’s death?” Emrys smiled. “Trying to make peace with your sister even after all she has done?”

“I – it’s…” Arthur shook his head. “I am _one_ man, Emrys, I can’t do all that…”

A scowl crossed the old man’s weathered features. “Do they look like one man to you?” Emrys snapped, pointing sharply at the knights. All four of them stepped back suspiciously as he waved his hand at them. “Does the servant waiting for you in this very forest, or the one in your chamberlain’s quarters, or the physician in your castle, all look like one man to you? Do _I_ look like one man to you?”

“You can’t possibly be helping me,” Arthur said irritably. “You’re what, eighty? You’ll be dead soon enough, anyway.”

“Mm, I’m afraid you’re off by… a little less than sixty years,” the man said, chuckling to himself.

“You’re a hundred and forty?” Leon asked incredulously.

“Other direction,” the man sniped, sounding distinctly put out.

“You’re in your… twenties…?” Elyan said dubiously.

The man cracked a rotting grin at them all. “Amazing what magic can do, isn’t it? Looks can be quite deceiving, don’t you think?”

“You’re… young?” Arthur said.

“Younger than you,” the… old?… man said cheerfully.

“But why…” 

“Is this an illness wrought by magic?” Percival asked.

“No, no, I’m fine,” the old man said, laughing. “But – when something goes amiss, who will listen to a boy for wisdom, no matter how right he is?”

Arthur could admit the man had a point. He thought of the nobles and advisors in his council who still treated him like a small child just because of his inexperience, and suddenly wished he had some of this old man’s aging spell for himself.

The old man laughed. “Go fetch your manservant and go home, King of Camelot. Change will come on its own, but peaceful change will not. Take your toad-face and be the hope of all Albion.”

The man turned and wandered into the trees, and Arthur could swear there was a mist closing around the old man as he ambled off. The knights all made to follow him, but Arthur shook his head, waving them off. He had no doubt that if this man didn’t want to be followed, he wouldn’t be. Especially not when moments later, the mists vanished, the old man along with them.

Arthur stared into the dim, moonlit forest for a while, before eventually, Gwaine said, “Shouldn’t we be going home, if we’re not following him?”

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Arthur said, “West first, let’s get Merlin before he falls into a ditch.”

They trudged back to their horses, and Arthur tried to stop thinking about everything Emrys had said, and tried to reconcile the old man with the knowledge he was younger than Arthur – younger and wiser.

He tried.

“Should we trust the old man?” Gwaine asked as they mounted their horses. “What if he’s leading us into a trap?”

“Let’s be real,” Arthur said, digging through his small night-patrol saddle bag. “If he wanted to trap us, he had us right in the palm of his hand.”

Gwaine grumbled but acquiesced as Percival and Elyan started lighting the torches and passing them around.

Without fear of hiding and able to use torches to light their way, they moved much faster through the forest, silent save the beating of hooves and harsh breathing as Arthur tried not to _think_ too hard about tonight.

It wasn’t long before they stumbled across Merlin.

Or rather, he stumbled across them.

“You prat!” Merlin greeted him with, along with a punch at Arthur’s head, which Arthur easily dodged.

“Why, hello, sire, glad to see you’re okay, sorry for disobeying your direct orders,” Arthur started, before ducking as Merlin half-heartedly tried to punch him again.

“You locked me up!” Merlin shouted at him, his horse spooking at the noise. “You, you, you imprisoned me!”

“Well how else was I supposed to protect you?” Arthur said. “You followed me even after that!”

“You don’t need to protect me -”

“Yes I do!”

Arthur and Merlin glared at each other, before Arthur sighed, and turned his horse towards Camelot, gesturing all the knights to follow, holding up one of the torches to light their way.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Merlin said, riding alongside him. “No, Arthur, you can’t just go running off without me, what if you’d run into Morgana?!”

“We did,” Gwaine said dryly.

“Got some help, though,” Arthur said. “I’ll explain when we get home.”

“You better,” Merlin said, glaring. “Of all the stupid, irrational, pig-headed things you’ve done, locking me up to go face danger after all the things we’ve been through together, and then being mad at me when you find me, oh, no, you prat, you are _never_ leaving me behind again, I need to be there when you do stupid things like this, because weird, bad things happen when I’m not there, I swear I’m going to shackle myself to you if that’s what it takes, just watch me, because you can’t ever leave me behind like that again…”

The way back home was a little less grim than the trip out here, bathed in warmth and light from the torches and in Merlin’s ranting voice. Arthur turned back once to see his fond amusement reflected on his knights’ faces, Merlin not noticing any of it.

Of course, once they got home, there was still Agravaine to deal with, and after that wrestling with his court and his council over the laws on magic, not to mention having to ensure a way to protect his people in case something went wrong, all on top of this golden age of Albion thing.

But for now, he’d sit back and listen to Merlin yelling at and insulting him on their way back to the castle.

It sounded like home.

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for commenting and sticking with the story thus far. In case AO3 is messing with my fanfic status again, this particular fic is now complete. Next fic should start posting in a few weeks. Concrit is always appreciated - whether it's stuff you wish to see or just a part of my writing you think I can improve on, let me know!


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